High School
by RosemarieCraig
Summary: What happens when you throw teenaged House, Cuddy and Wilson into a New Jersey High School, add in House's abusive father, Rowan Chase and his adorable son Robbie and stir? An eclectic, exciting story covering almost two years. Abuse Warning. Now complete and awaiting sequel and prequel!
1. Chapter 1

Greg House swerved into his parking space on his motorbike, screeching the tires. He turned the bike off and removed his helmet, and ran his fingers through his short curly blonde hair, panting slightly from the exhilaration.

"If you keep doing stuff like that, you'll kill yourself before your 17th birthday!" came House's conscience in the form of a tall, handsome boy with dark hair swept over his forehead. Wilson grinned at his best friend, most of his concentration going on digesting his huge breakfast. His family had had a fry up together, laughing at his attempt to make pancakes. House jumped off his bike, landing in front of Wilson to bump his fist before they went in to the huge, expensive prep school.

"Did you see the Facebook pictures of my bash the other night?" House asked

"You looked like a moron"

"I was drunk. I don't remember anything past 11!"

"Of course you don't" Wilson despaired at his friend "What was the occasion, or did the lacrosse team just feel like getting hangovers?"

"It was the last night my father's away. He came back last night"

"Oh. How was it?"

"The same as last time, and the time before"

"Anything serious?"

"No. I'll be okay. I've got chem, see you later" House broke into a jog to the chem labs. It was his favourite lesson by far. On his way in, three separate girls moved their bags to let him sit down, batting their eyelashes at him. But he only had eyes for the beautiful brunette at the back.

"You can't sit here, House"

"Why not? No one else is sitting there"

"I saw your photos. You and that girl eating each others faces in your room. Was she drunk enough to sleep with you?"

"I don't sleep with cheap girls"

"You could've fooled me!" Lisa Cuddy laughed as her adversary blushed. She moved her bag and let him sit down.

"Cheers. Now Ive got the perfect view of your knockers!"

"Shut up House!" she grinned. Despite the banter, she wished she had been the girl in the photos. She'd never kissed a guy, even at seventeen. She only wanted House. He was in almost all her classes, even though he was meant to be in the grade below.

"What? They're pretty hot, Lisa" House asserted. Lisa smacked him jokingly on his leather clad arm and he winced. Quickly, he tried to make it look like a joke, but Cuddy had noticed a genuine flash of pain cross her friend's face.

"Are you alright?" she asked, concerned. Before House could open his mouth to deny feeling any pain at all, the teacher walked in and started the lesson.

A few hours later, House, Wilson and Cuddy met in the cafeteria for lunch.

"Buy me a BLT?" House asked Wilson.

"You haven't bought your own sandwich since second grade!" Wilson huffed. His dad gave him five dollars extra to buy House lunch everyday. There had been once, the year before, when Wilson said no. He had expected House to pull out his own money and buy some food, but he just came and sat down, trying to divert attention from his lack of food by telling a wild story about a fictional girl he had slept with. Wilson always bought him lunch after that. The three friends queued up by the sandwich bar. House took his BLT, Wilson grabbed and paid for a cheese sandwich and Cuddy took a jam one. They sat down at a table, House avoiding the girls beckoning him over. He liked the attention, but he preferred having lunch with Cuddy. He took a huge bite from his sandwich as though he was ravenous. Wilson remembered the half term break when House had come to him on the last day and confessed that he hadn't been allowed to leave his room all holiday and that he was really hungry. Wilson had invited him in and his mother had made the boys a feast of meats and deserts. She had exchanged anxious glances with her son as House gulped down mouthfuls of the food.

"So, Cuddy, what are you doing tonight?" House asked

"Working"

"You're always working!"

"We can't all be like you, House. Not everyone gets to ace everything without studying" Wilson said. He'd always been a little jealous of his friend's easy intelligence.

"Anyway, do you guys want to go out?"

"Not really" Cuddy said

"Wilson?" House half bit his lip

"I'm not going out. You can come and stay over if you want"

"Thanks" House allowed himself to breathe again. He couldn't stand another night with his father


	2. Chapter 2

House and Wilson had a good time mucking around with Wilson's brothers. House was an only child, and he loved the Wilson family. They had practically adopted him. Wilson's father was kind and gentle, his mother smelt of freshly baked bread and cookies. She even hugged House on his visits. Wilson's older brother could play fight House for ages, Wilson egging them on and separating them whenever it evolved into a genuine fight. House always felt empty when he left their home. He walked back to his house, the warm Saturday sunlight warming the top of his head. As he got closer to his house, he walked slower, until he had no choice but to knock on the front door. His father answered and yanked him in by a fistful of his T-shirt.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he yelled in House's face

"Coming home?"

"Don't you get smart with me" John House snapped, bashing his son with a cupped hand across the side of the head.

"Sorry"

"I was in your room. You're such a little girl!" House couldn't think of a single thing I his room that would indicate that. His walls were lined with posters of Heavy Rock bands and medical diagrams, as well as a couple of playboy girls. His guitar was propped against one of the many piles of books. He read everything, textbooks, medical journals, Shakespeare, Sherlock Holmes, religious texts, biographies of famous musicians, anything he could get his hands on. Under his bed was a small stack of porn for those longs nights when Lisa Cuddy wasn't there. Not that she ever was.

"What about my room?"

"Men don't read books like that"

"Books like what?"

"Poetry and textbooks and music. Men read real books like SAS survival guides"

"I don't think they're interesting"

"Well then you can't read. I left some boxes outside your room. Pack up every single book. Now!"

"But-" House tried to object, but immediately wished he hadn't as the hand closed around his throat, choking him, slamming him against a wall

"Pack up the books. Do not talk back to me. Do you understand?" House tried to nod against his father's arm. He fell onto the floor, gasping for air as he was released suddenly. He coughed, his eyes wetting. "Now!" John roared, kicking his son in the knee. House pulled himself up the stairs of their modest house and grabbed a box from outside him room. He didn't want to do it. He didn't want to give all his precious books to his father. The books had kept him from going insane, had helped him through long periods of time locked in his bedroom. They had been his only childhood friends before Blythe had put her foot down and bought a house there and he'd met Cuddy and Wilson. He began to pack books slowly into the boxes, hoping that his father was just confiscating them for a little while. He picked out a few of his favourites and hid them under his bed next to the playboy magazines. His father wouldn't look under there. The whole day passed, House packing his books up slowly. Night began to sink in through his small window.

"Are you done yet?" his father yelled up the stairs

"Yes"

"Yes what?"

"Yes sir" House barked like a soldier. He hated calling anyone sir. His father came upstairs to inspect his now almost bare room. Four boxes were packed over the brim with books. John looked all around, opening every draw. House wished he was back at Wilson's. He could feel a bruise on his neck. The neck was difficult to hide. John knelt down and checked under the bed. House winced.

"You tried to lie to me" he accused, pulling the pile of five books out from under the bed.

"No I just-" but John cut him off with a sharp slap.

"How dare you hide things from me?" John House picked up the heaviest book, an encyclopaedia of medical terms and wielded it as a weapon. He smashed the book into his son's shoulder, a sickening crack filled the room as it shook the bone, not breaking it, but making House cry out.

"Father!" he begged.

"You hid five books, so you will not be allowed home for five nights."

"But-"

"Shut up" he shouted, punching House in the stomach. "Carry two of those boxes downstairs." he took the other two, following House down the stairs. "into the garden." House could already see the bonfire that his father had built raging against the dark sky.

"Father, please don't" but John House was already chucking his son's precious books onto the fire, watching them fall apart in the flames. "No!" House tried to grab a book from the flames, am illustrated book of Shakespeare stories, but it disintegrated between his fingers. He wrenched his hand away from the fire, nursing a burn. "Father, please, please" House was outright begging.

"Shut up" John House continued to throw every single book onto the fire, and then watched his work as the fire consumed House's prized possessions. "Now get out of my house, I don't want to see you for five nights, remember. If I catch you hanging around here, you will not see the end of it."

"Can I get some clothes?"

"Get out, now" John whispered menacingly.

"But" House tried to protest. But his words were cut short by a hard blow to the side of his head. The pain reverberated around his skull. He turned and ran away from the house and the fire and his father. And, quite by accident, he ran straight into the arms of Lisa Cuddy.

"Whoa House, slow down, or next time you'll run into an old lady!"

"Wait here for me?" he asked. She noticed his voice tremble.

"Okay" House ran back the way he had come. He'd forgotten his motorbike. If he didn't get there in time, his father would destroy that too. The key jangled in his pocket. He let out a huge sigh of relief when he saw his bike. She was okay. House went to the bike and got on, the engine starting up with a small roar. He swerved the bike away and made his way back to where Cuddy was waiting for him.

"We need to find Wilson" House said, simply, extending his arm to help her onto the bike. Cuddy nodded and took House's hand, pulling herself behind him on the seat. "Put your arms around my waist", he said gently. He knew she had never ridden before. She gingerly tucked her arms around him. She'd never noticed how thin he was under his leather jacket.

"House, you smell like burning, are you okay?" it was too dark to notice the bruises under his eye and around his neck.

"I'll explain later" he said, evasively. She leaned into him, resting her face on his shoulder. He felt safer with her there. They pulled up into Wilson's driveway. Almost immediately, Wilson stepped out of the door, having heard the screeching of House's tires.

"House, what are you- oh, hi Lisa" Wilson looked surprised to see his friends together. Lisa would never usually get on House's bike.

"Wilson, I need you" House murmured. "He kicked me out. I'm not allowed home for a week"

"A whole week?"

"Im not expecting your parents to let me stay. But please can you help me?"

"Come inside" he said to House and Cuddy, " Mom, Dad, House is back. Can we talk to you for a minute?" Wilson's parents converged into the hallway, and gasped as House stepped into their electric light. They hadn't seen him with bruises before. He hid well.

"Greg! My Lord, what happened?" Wilson's mother asked, her voice high.

"I had a disagreement"

"Come inside" Wilson's father echoed his son. House went into their sitting room, sitting on the same chair he always sat on. The Wilson's and Cuddy sat down too.

"Listen, I don't want to talk about it, okay. But I can't go home for a while. A week."

"Why can't you go home, Greg?" Wilson's mother asked

"Because I'm not allowed" he didn't meet her eyes. She got up and knelt next to him, tracing the lines of his bruises with her finger. He winced, and she began to cry.

"How could someone do this to their own child?"

"Because I'm not his child" House hissed "Not emotionally or biologically. We both know it, just no one will admit it, especially Mom" Wilson looked stunned. His best friend had never shared that with him.

"You can stay at my house for a while" said Cuddy. "My parents won't mind. They think you're gay" House laughed quietly.

"I'd like that, please"

"And you can stay here the rest of the time" Wilson volunteered. His parents nodded. House stood up and shook Wilson's dad's hand.

"I'll be back in a couple of days. Thank you so much" House said. His friends had never heard him be properly polite, with no hint of sarcasm or mockery in his voice.

"Stay safe" Wilson's father said. House nodded. He and Cuddy went to the door, the Wilson family stood inside it, waving the pair goodbye as they sped away on House's bike. They got to Cuddy's house in ten minutes. It was late, past eleven, and Cuddy's father was pacing In the living room, visible through the window. Kent Cuddy spotted his daughter get off the back of a boy's bike and immediately went outside.

"What the hell are you doing, Lisa? And you, you little piece of shit! Mucking around with my daughter!" He yelled. House pulled off his helmet and looked, wide eyed at Cuddy's father. "oh, it's you. Okay"

"Dad, House really needs somewhere to stay for a few nights. He cant go home." Cuddy's father looked at the boy on the motorbike. He didn't look his usual, cocky self. Kent tried to put a name to the look on House's face. It was almost... Desperation. He was practically biting his lip off.

"Yeah. I'll make up a blow-up in Lisa's room. He is the gay one, right?" he asked Cuddy. House fought to hide a smile as Cuddy affirmed the statement. About as gay as Charlie Sheen. Kent Cuddy led his daughter inside and went to get the blow-up from the closet.

"Why did you tell him I was gay?"

"He doesn't like my best friends being boys. So he thinks you and Wilson are together"

"Ew, gross!"

"That's what Wilson said!" Cuddy joked. House smacked her playfully.

"Can I use your shower?"

"Sure. Take a towel from over there" she said, pointing at a shelf laden with towels. He chose a thick red one and went into the shower. He stripped and gasped at the mess of black and blue bruises his shoulder was in. He was lucky it wasn't dislocated. He tried to rotate it, but it was stiff in the socket, and movement hurt. He had shadows of bruises on his chest and stomach and hand shaped ones on his neck. His eye was swollen and his jaw was bruised. His hands were black with charcoal and one was burned. He stepped into the warm shower, glad to get rid of the dirt and the sheen of cold sweat that had covered him all day. It didn't even occur to him until afterwards that he was naked in the same place as Cuddy was. He dried himself off and put his clothes back on. He wore a faded black T-shirt with a Led Zeppelin logo on and faded blue jeans. He didn't put his leather jacket on, but hooked his around his arm and went through to Cuddy's room where Kent was blowing up the bed.

"Thanks so much for this, Mr. Cuddy"

"That's quite alright. Those are some mighty bruises on your face"

"It's fine. Just a little tiff I had with a football"

"I thought you played lacrosse"

"A man of many talents" House bowed. He'd never played football in his life. Kent finished bowing up the bed, kissed his daughter and left the room. House sat down on his bed, which was on the floor next to Cuddy's. They both lay down. Cuddy rolled over so she could see House.

"House, you know you can tell me anything, right?"

"Yeah"

"Why did you keep all this from me? You told Wilson" she sounded a little hurt

"I didn't want you to know"

"Why not?"

"Because it makes you feel sorry for me"

"You deserve some sympathy, House"

"No I don't. And I don't want it anyway" Cuddy noticed House's voice break and looked I horror as he began to cry. He never cried. He was the tough kid with a motorbike and a team captain badge. He was the one who won in fights, who didn't give up when people told him he was wrong, not until he proved himself right. And yet here he was, sobbing quietly on her bedroom floor, bruises flowering on his cheek and around his eye, his neck looking painful.

"Come here" Cuddy said, pulling up the covers and budging over so that House could fit onto her bed. She hugged him close until he stopped crying. "It'll be okay, Greg, I promise" he looked her straight in the eye. If she could call him Greg, he could make eye contact. Their heads inched closer together, and they kissed gently, lying on Cuddy's bed, House's tears staining her pillow. Everything was okay, it that moment where their mouths opened and they let each other explore. Cuddy became rougher, pressing her mouth into House's. He responded, moving his hand to brush her breast. His hands moved down across her thin waist, sending chills up and down her body. They broke apart for air, and kissed again, their legs entwining in a full embrace. Eventually, they stopped, out of breath.

"That was amazing. You are the best kisser I've ever kissed"

"You're my first"

"You're the first I care about" House whispered in her ear. He stroked her hair until she fell asleep. He followed soon after, thinking only of her.


	3. Chapter 3

"Listen House, I didn't mean for it to happen. It was late, I was worried about you. I don't love you" Cuddy rehearsed in the mirror. House was still asleep. She couldn't actually say the words to him. For one thing, she didn't think he could cope with a rejection, and another- she wasn't sure they were true. A part of her had always found him… interesting. He was enigmatic, selfish but kind, cynical but trusting. He was different to all the other guys at their school. Very different. He was stretched out on her bed, looking peaceful except for the black bruises on his face and neck. She had kissed him. Properly kissed. House stirred and rolled over to face her, opening his eyes. He saw her and grinned. He stood and went over to her, no snarky comment on her bed hair or about the night before. House lent in close to her and kissed her gently. Her resolve to tell him her prepared speech melted along with her body. He wasn't touching her ass like she'd expected, like she'd seen him do with other girls. He was being sweet.

"Lisa- I think I've gone and fallen in love with you" he stood back. House was a couple of inches taller than Cuddy, his rumpled hair curling around his boyish face. His eyes twinkled with hope and love. Cuddy lent into him and hugged him.

"I love you too. I have done for ages"

"But you never let me…"

"I know. I thought you would be the same as you are with the other girls"

"They don't mean anything. The experiments of adolescence. You mean everything to me." They kissed again.

"Lise?" Kent knocked on the door, opening it in time to see the couple spring apart. "Hey- you said he was gay!"

"Dad, I can explain"

"Get out of my house!" he yelled at House, who scrambled for his shoes and jacket. "If you ever touch my daughter again, so help me God" he threatened, following House down the stairs and watching him ride away on his bike.

"Dad, where's he supposed to go now?"

"Home"

"His father kicked him out"

"It doesn't surprise me! You are grounded for life, missy. Go to your room" he watched his seventeen year old daughter go upstairs, wondering if he had overreacted.

"Wilson!" House yelled from across the corridor at school. The friends met in the middle, walking together to their shared history class. "Cuddy kissed me!"

"You liar! She'd never kiss you!"

"I'm serious. I wooed with my superior manliness"

"Shut up House, don't be an idiot"

"Really, she kissed me. Then her Dad came in and ruined our moment. I don't think he'll let me stay"

"Look, here she comes. Lets ask her, shall we" Wilson said, going towards Cuddy, who was carrying a large stack of books.

"Wilson, don't"

"Heya Cuddy. House reckons you kissed him" House shut his eyes. Great with tact, Wilson. Cuddy blushed bright red and pushed past the boys.

"You idiot!" House scalded Wilson "Now it looks like I was boasting!"

"You mean you actually kissed her?" Wilson looked shocked. He'd thought it was a joke.

"Cuddy, Cuddy, come back!" House called down the hall, following the girl until she turned around.

"You're such a jerk. I should never have trusted you!"

"It's not how it looks"

"Oh yeah, well it looks like you're going to spread this all around the school and I'll be another slut Greg House slept with before long!"

"Cuddy, it's not like that! I only told Wilson"

"You tell him everything, don't you?" She accused

"I'm really sorry Cuddy" House whispered, cupping his hand under her chin. "I didn't mean to upset you" House was biting his lip, hoping desperately that she would forgive him. Cuddy looked up at the tall, handsome, mysterious boy and melted all over again.

"See you in chem, Greg" she said, kindly. House breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't even hit him.

"Bye Lisa"

"You actually like her" Wilson teased from behind House's shoulder.

"No kidding dumb-brain." The boys grinned, pushing each other all the way to history.


	4. Chapter 4

House still had four nights to go before he was allowed home. He didn't ask Wilson to let him stay. Four nights was too long. Three would be better. After school, House, Wilson and Cuddy went to the park. House pulled a bottle out of his faded blue rucksack.

"Anyone else want some?" he said, swinging a mouthful of scotch from the bottle. Cuddy reached for it, and the two made faces at each other as it burned their throats. Wilson hesitated. But took the bottle when House raised his eyebrow. Wilson spluttered over the fiery liquid. The other two laughed. The three teenagers sat on the grassy hill, staring out over the city.

"Do you ever wander what goes on in other people's houses?" Cuddy asked "I've been thinking recently, how much even the most normal looking people hide."

"I reckon most people have pretty ordinary secrets. But everybody lies" House said dreamily, looking at the changing, darkening clouds, swigging from the scotch bottle. He drank most of in within about forty five minutes on his own. He downed the last few centimetres in one gulp and pulled a bottle of whiskey from his rucksack. "What?" he asked as Wilson tutted at him. House tipped the bottle back and swallowed three times. He belched, passing the bottle to Cuddy.

"House, you're going to get really drunk. And I don't want to babysit you all night" Wilson warned.

"Go home then! Both of you. Just go away" House snapped. Cuddy and Wilson exchanged glances, shocked by his sudden change in mood.

"We can't just leave you here"

"Why not, everyone else does" he slurred, standing up. He swayed slightly then walked away from them. "Don't you dare follow me" he yelled, disappearing into the bushes.

"Should we-?" Cuddy asked

"No, there's no helping him once he gets like this. In a few minutes he'll be trying to pick a fight and if we're the only ones here it'll be with us. I'd rather not get into another House fight, and he would hate it if I let you see him like that."

"The photos I've seen of his drunken party nights show him having a lot more fun than that"

"Yeah, that's in his jello shots and beers stage. As soon as he hits whiskey, he's gone and everyone who values their brain cells leaves him alone." Wilson sighed. "He'll be okay. Let me walk you home."

"You can't let him sleep out here!"

"He'll be at mine smashing up flower beds and shouting before long"

"Are you sure?" Cuddy asked. Wilson nodded

"House, we're leaving. Come back to mine in a couple of hours" Wilson shouted

"F- off!" they heard the yell from a distance away. Wilson took Cuddy's arm and led her away, back to her house.

House was alone with the alcohol and a sachet of weed. He rolled the drugs and lit the end with his red lighter. Taking deep draughts, he began to feel the shake in his hands stop. He closed his eyes and lay back on the grass. Nothing could hurt him up on the hill, staring at the night sky. He didn't need them, not Wilson or Cuddy or his father. No, he was fine on his own. Better on his own. Friendship just got in the way. Why did they have to choose New Jersey to settle down? Why not England or Hong Kong or Pakistan? Somewhere interesting that father travelled to? Because in New Jersey there were other teenagers who seemed to care about him. He'd been at the school for a year, longer than any other. Other schools it alternated between having to leave because his father was stationed somewhere else and expulsion. House's father hardly ever actually beat him, but he did when House got expelled. The first time he got expelled, he was nine. House couldn't help slipping into the memory.

_"You. Are. A. Stupid. Pathetic. Naughty. Arrogant. Insolent. Little. Idiot." the man yelled, punctuating every word with a punch to his son's bloody, tear stained face. Gregory couldn't stand how much it hurt. He was sobbing, trying desperately not to fall over with each blow. He'd been told to stand. "Stop crying you little girl!"_

_"I'm sorry, father, I'm sorry" Gregory begged. John House delivered a killer punch to the boy's jaw, and Gregory collapsed._

_"Fine, you leave me no choice" the man hissed. He couldn't comfortably punch the child on the floor. He undid his belt and Gregory began to shake uncontrollably._

_"Please, please, please" he begged in a whisper "please"_

_"Shut up" John House raised the belt above his head and brought the strap down across his son's back. Gregory pulled himself into the foetal position, protecting his head and front. He could feel blood dripping from his nose and lip, and felt his mashed face brush against his knees with every blow of the belt. He couldn't stop crying. After what seemed like hours, his father yanked his t-shirt up over his head. His back was covered in crisscrossing, thick, bright red stripes. He was still shaking. John wasn't done. He had never truly beaten his son, considering him too young. But this would be done properly. The kid had wasted a semester school fees. He had three weeks to recover before he started a new school. Blythe was away. It was the perfect opportunity to release all the anger he had been carrying around. His own personal, snivelling punching bag. John House turned the belt around so he held the strap. The heavy brass buckle hit the soft flesh to the left side of the boy's spine, the strip of metal flicking back and cutting deep. Gregory screamed and arched his back, trying to get away from the pain that was part of him. Ten more times the belt buckle cut into his back, until blood trickled down onto the linoleum floor. Gregory couldn't move properly, crying in a disheveled ball on the kitchen floor. John House lent down to whisper in his son's ear_

_"You will never, ever be good enough, Gregory House. You will always fail" Gregory whimpered. John left the room, leaving his bleeding nine year old sobbing on the floor. Gregory pulled himself across the room and took shelter under the kitchen table._

'Don't think about it', House told himself, remembering the countless scars on his back. 'You aren't that boy anymore'. But he was, deep down, he would never be able to forget the sobbing little boy cowering under the kitchen table, blood dripping from him onto the floor. House took another drag of the weed, followed by a swig of the whiskey. At the end of the joint, he fell asleep in the bushes.

As the sun peeked over the horizon, House stirred, his head protesting. He looked mournfully at the two empty bottles next to him, rubbing his throbbing eyes. He rolled over and vomited into the bushes. Only one or two specks got on his Led Zeppelin t-shirt. He realised how badly he stank. He was still wearing the same clothes he had slept in two nights in a row. House pulled himself up and stuffed the bag of weed into the pocket of his shabby blue rucksack.


	5. Chapter 5

As the sun peeked over the horizon, House stirred, his head protesting. He looked mournfully at the two empty bottles next to him, rubbing his throbbing eyes. He rolled over and vomited into the bushes. Only one or two specks got on his Led Zeppelin t-shirt. He realised how badly he stank. He was still wearing the same clothes he had slept in two nights in a row. House pulled himself up and stuffed the bag of weed into the pocket of his shabby blue rucksack. He got up, massaging his head.

House decided to go to Wilson's first to grab one of the t-shirts he stored in his best friend's closet. He chucked a rock up to Wilson's window. It was early, and he didn't want to wake his friend's parents. The window slid open and Wilson's sleepy head poked out.

"You didn't sleep in the park, did you?" Wilson asked

"I might've done. Can I grab a shirt and an aspirin?"

"Give me a minute" Wilson's head went back inside the room and returned a few seconds later with a dark t-shirt with the words 'don't get science? Try religion' in red across the front and a packet of pain killers.

"Cheers Wilson" House said, catching the shirt and medicine. House quickly swapped shirts and Wilson retreated to his room to get ready for school. It was half an hour early, but Wilson already felt guilty for leaving his friend in the park. Anything could have happened. He got dressed and grabbed two cereal bars from the kitchen cupboard. He left he house, shutting the door quietly behind him.

"Heya" House said, meeting him at the front door. Wilson passed him one of the cereal bars.

"You look really rough"

"Cheers"

"You need to get some less insulting t-shirts"

"I like the ones I have"

"Have you ever even been to church to see what it's like? I could take you to temple with my family on saturday if you wanted"

"I've been every Sunday since I was three. Every single one" House said gruffly, resentment flooding his voice. "My father insists"

"Do you feel anything?"

"There's nothing to feel. I mean, sorry Wilson but your imaginary friend doesn't talk to me"

"Shut up House" Wilson was sorry he brought it up, he'd known he'd just end up getting insulted anyway.

"Was I bad, last night?" House asked tentatively "I didn't do anything stupid, did I?"

"No. You shouted for a bit then walked off"

"What did Cuddy say?"

"She seemed to understand that you weren't yourself"

"What if I was being myself?" House said under his breath. It had been bugging him for a while. When he got drunk, everyone always left because he was an angry, violent jerk. Wilson's descriptions of him almost exactly matched his father.

"You don't act like that sober"

"But maybe the alcohol lets you see the real me? Maybe I am genuinely like that, and the semi-nice me is just a disguise. Maybe I'll drop it someday and become just like him."

"Don't be an idiot, House. Just because you don't handle hard stuff well doesn't mean you will end up like your father" Wilson said forcefully.

"Cuddy will hate me" House said.

"She really likes you"

"That's not exactly unconditional love, is it. A teenage crush on a guy with a motorbike."

"Are you sure you're sober enough to go to school?" Wilson asked.

"I'll be fine once I've had a fag" he said, pulling a pack of cigarettes and his lighter from his back pocket. "Want one?"

"You know I don't smoke" Wilson declined. House shrugged and lit two anyway. Wilson didn't take it, so House smoked both at once. Wilson started to laugh.

"You look like a right idiot"

"You didn't want it!"

"Fine, fine I'll have one" Wilson laughed. House took one from his mouth and put it into Wilson's. Wilson took a breath of the smoke and fought back a cough. House snorted with laughter, all morbid thoughts of Cuddy and his father put from his mind.

"Cuddy goes to my temple, you know"

"I'm still not coming"

"Wow, News headlines, Greg House's sex drive does not drive him into religion!" Wilson shouted.

"Shut up" House said, touching his forehead and downing his third painkiller.

"You're only supposed to take one every four hours"

"They don't work" the boys had arrived at the huge school that had once been a mansion. It was supposed to look like a British school, but House saw the telltale American nature of the building. He'd been to British boarding schools, he knew what they were like. This school was huge, but only had two floors. It was simply laid out in a grid formation of classrooms. The corridors were soulless and modern, lined with lockers. It was noting like England.

"What've you got first?"

"We've all got math" said House. They went to their lockers and opened them. House's was five or six along from Wilson's. Where Wilson's was lined with photos of his family, his dogs and his expensive Caribbean holidays, House's was empty except for a post it note with his father's grade targets for the semester. He wanted straight As. House was more than capable, but he detested being told what grades to get. Sometimes he would deliberately fail assignments just to wind his father up. People were beginning to slowly fill the halls with chatter. Lisa Cuddy came in, holding her books in front of her chest, pushing her cleavage up a little. Her long brown hair flowed effortlessly down her back, contrasting like strawberries and chocolate with her red blouse. House couldn't help staring at her.

"Heya Cuddy" he said as she approached

"Feeling better?" she asked, concerned. He nodded and leaned forward to kiss her. She allowed it, just for two seconds. "Come on, let's go to math". The boys followed two steps behind her, Wilson staring open mouthed at House. House shrugged his shoulder as if to say 'I don't know how I did it either'. He put his arm around Cuddy's shoulder and she slipped her arm around his waist. She felt like she'd grown two inches. She, Lisa Cuddy, the dorky girl, was with Greg House, the coolest boy on the earth. They only separated when House dropped her off at her table with her friend Jessie, who automatically started giggling when she saw the physical contact between Cuddy and House. He and Wilson sat in the row behind.

"Right, you're staying at mine tonight, okay? I'm not having you sleeping in parks"

"Cheers Wilson" the boys settled into their math lesson. House spent five minutes finishing the task it took the others the whole period to complete, then stared out of the window, thinking. Three nights left of his punishment, and then it was school holidays. A whole week off school, with no one making sure he turned up anywhere. A whole week where his mother was away. A whole week to loose bruises from anything that happened when he got home. A whole week with none of his precious books. Tears accidentally stung the corners of his eyes as his mind turned to his books. He imagined all of them burning and falling apart on the bonfire. What if his father had kept going with the rest of his room? House shivered as he thought of his guitar, the best thing besides his bike that he'd ever owned. He had to get it back.

"Wilson," House whispered "I need to break into my house tonight"

"What?" Wilson looked incredulous

"He burnt all my books, James. All of them. I need to rescue my guitar"

"Burnt your books?" Wilson asked, he'd thought book burning was reserved for Nazis and Communist states, not American soldiers at home. He barely registered the use of his first name, but to House it sounded foreign and strange, like when someone called him Gregory.

"He didn't like my choice of reading materials. Textbooks and great novels are for little girls, apparently" House said ruefully

"What do you want me to do?" Wilson asked, wanting to protect the younger, suddenly fragile looking boy. He sometimes forgot that House was more than a year younger than him, he acted so adult and clever. But he was vulnerable without his motorbike and his thick leather jacket.

"I need you to keep lookout. I've got a whistle. If a light goes on, blow it" the bell went for end of period, and Wilson took the whistle House handed him. "What've you got next, Cuddy?"

"Psych" she said, smiling. Sure enough, House made a disdainful face.

"I've got World History. I'll walk you to Psych"

"It's the other way"

"It doesn't matter" Wilson was making vomit noises behind them. Sometimes he could be more than a little immature. House walked with Cuddy all the way to her class, his arm hung lazily around her shoulder. She was grinning all the way. He dropped her off with a long kiss outside her classroom, then turned and sprinted to his own, pushing past students in his way. They all parted to let him by. Cuddy laughed to herself. He was so sweet when he wanted to be.


	6. Chapter 6

House and Wilson were in House's back garden wearing dark clothes and carrying flashlights. House began to scale a drainpipe, but discovered that it was slippery and he couldn't get a grip. He fell two foot as his feet slipped, and then waved a fussing Wilson away.

"Which one is your bedroom window?"

"I don't have a bedroom window. Just a light bulb" Wilson couldn't even imagine what it would be like to have a room without a window.

"So which one are we getting in through?"

"That one" House said, pointing to an upstairs window that was cracked open. He took off his shoes to reveal dirty socks riddled with holes. It would be easier to crawl up the drainpipe without shoes. He managed to scramble up, slipping once or twice accompanied by dramatic gasps from his best friend on the ground. Eventually he got to the open window and crawled inside. He stuck his thumb up out of the window to Wilson, who sighed in relief. House tiptoed silently from the large guest room into his own cramped one. All his posters had gone, his books, obviously, had not returned. The only things in there were his bed, his chest of draws with some clothes in and his guitar, propped up against the wall. At least it was still okay. House went over to his prized instrument and stroked the red body. It was perfect, his very own. He took three T-shirts and some boxers from the draw, grabbed a pack of cigarettes and his guitar and left his room as silently as he had come in. This time he went down the stairs, his shoulders tense, waiting for the expected attack, hoping it wouldn't come when he was on the stairs. He reached the bottom, his body almost shaking with tension, and let himself out though the front door. He was out.

"Wilson" he hissed. His friend appeared from behind the house, carrying House's shoes. "I got it!"

"Let's get out of here" Wilson said, suddenly looking faintly ridiculous with his black clothes and beanie hat. House nodded, suppressing nervous, happy laughter. They had got away with it.

"Oi!" John House yelled from an upstairs window "Gregory, you'd better not be down there"

"Shit, run for it" House shouted, starting up a sprint, throwing his head back and loving the thrill. Wilson panted behind him.

"Come back here!" John House yelled "Gregory, I swear you'll regret this!"

The boys sat panting outside Wilson's house, House laughing manically. Wilson was panicking. What if House's father came to his house? What would happen to his friend if he was caught?

"House, stop laughing" Wilson said. He knew House wouldn't be able to stop until his fear had dissipated somewhat, but he tried anyway. Sure enough, it was five minutes before House's body stopped wracking with laughter that Wilson ignored.

"He saw me"

"I know"

"It was a stupid thing to do"

"Yeah. I shouldn't've let you" the boys sat in silence for a while, House clutching his guitar, a cigarette protruding, unlit from his mouth.

"I'm scared"

"It'll be okay, I promise. It'll be okay"

"I don't want to be in pain" House said quietly. Wilson's heart broke. House looked like a little kid, hunched up, his knees close to his chest, cradling his guitar. His clothes were all too big for him. He looked so helpless.

"Will you play for me? Your guitar?" Wilson asked. His friend nodded slowly, as though he had been waiting for Wilson to suggest it. House sat properly, leaning over his guitar. He plucked out a melody then moved to strum a tune Wilson had never heard before. It made House's eyes glaze over slightly. He began to sing. The combination of his soulful music and his angelic voice had Wilson's mouth open in shock. He hadn't known House was that music came to an end, the last chords tearing Wilson's heart strings. "You're really good. Really good" he said, wiping a tear form his eye.

"Cry baby. I'm not allowed to practice at home when father's there. I haven't played for over a week"

"Did you write that?"

"Yeah"

"It was beautiful"

"Thanks, Wilson" House lit his cigarette. "I've got two nights left. Then I have to go back"

"I know"

"Don't worry about me, okay? I don't want you wasting your half term"

"Won't we see you?" he asked, knowing the answer

"I doubt it. But hey, maybe he'll break the habit of a life time" House said ruefully. He shuddered slightly at the thought of spending a whole week locked in his impersonal room. His posters, his books, his stuff, it was all gone. He would go insane from boredom before anything his father did got to him.

"You can take some of my books if you want"

"He won't let me keep them. I'm not worth getting your books destroyed for"

"House- you know that's not true"

"Do I?"

"You should"

"Wilson, that man is supposed to be my dad. Think of all the stuff your dad does. Mine literally doesn't care! I'm not worth the effort. He doesn't love me"

"He does, in his own twisted way. You're his son"

"But I'm not even that. I- I'm practically unloveable, Wilson" House bowed his head with the weight of admitting his fears, the words that had been drilled into him for a decade. He touched the fading bruise on his neck and bunched his legs up to his chest.

"House, listen to me" Wilson said, pulling his friends chin to face him. "People love you. Teachers at school, my parents, me, your Mom, even Cuddy. Everyone loves you"

"My Mom thinks I'm making it up, you know, about my father. She believes his stupid stories about falling down stairs and bumping into doors"

"That doesn't change the fact that she loves you" Wilson felt slightly sick. How could any parents treat their kid like this? He tried to imagine what it would be like if his Dad hit him. He couldn't fathom his father doing anything but grinning and cheering him on.

"She doesn't get back from her trip until the end of the holidays"

"My house is always open"

"Cheers Wilson" House mumbled, his capacity for sharing his emotion exhausted. Wilson patted his shoulder and got up. The sun was beginning to rise. It was about four in the morning, and Wilson wanted to sleep before school. He extended his hand to help House up and the boys and the guitar went inside Wilson's calm, snoring home.

The next two nights passed in a blur of stolen happy moments with Cuddy and lavish meals cooked by Wilson's mother. Wilson loved having House to stay. His brothers loved him, his Mom loved him and he loved the exponential increase in food portions. The morning of the last day of House's ban from his home, Wilson's mom hugged him tight, holding the back of his head to her chest.

"You're a great kid, Greg, don't you forget it. You're welcome to just come around any time, no need to ask before hand. Stay safe" she refrained from kissing the top of his head like she did with her boys, worried that the contact would scare him off. She kissed Wilson and sent the boys to school with a wave. They both got onto House's bike, Wilson wearing his helmet and sped off. As they disappeared around the corner, she turned to her husband. "I worry about that boy. He's so thin. And the bruises. Do you think we should say something to someone? Get him help?"

"It's not our place to meddle with things kept behind locked doors" Wilson's Dad said, wishing he could help his son's friend. The couple turned back inside, worrying about him.

House and Wilson walked in silence until Cuddy joined them going inside the school gates.

"Hey House" she said, tucking her head under his outstretched arm. He was two inches taller than her, and her head fitted exactly into his shoulder.

"Hey baby. You look beautiful today" House said, Wilson making gagging noises at his friend's unnatural flattery. Cuddy stuck her tongue out at him. She wished she could say the same about House's appearance. He looked like he hadn't slept properly for days, or brushed his messy, curly hair. The boys had parked House's bike in his usual space. No one else parked in House's spot. The last boy who had came off much worse in the resulting fight. House did boxing as well as long distance, lacrosse and soccer.

"Are you going home tonight?" Cuddy asked tentatively.

"Looks like it"

"You're welcome to stay at mine again" Wilson piped up.

"Thanks Wilson. I have to go home. Otherwise it will just get worse" the three friends walked into the school and continued with their day. House couldn't concentrate in any of his classes thinking relentlessly of the possibilities that awaited him in five hours, four hours, three, two, one... The bell sounded at the end of House's European History class and be jumped. Time to go. House didn't join in with the whoop of joy that came from every teenager in the school at the prospect of a whole week with no homework, curfew or early alarm clocks. He avoided Wilson and Cuddy on his way out, avoiding their concern and their pity. They both noticed his empty space, but neither saw him leave. Wilson bit his lip, hoping desperately to hear from his friend before school started up again. Cuddy wished she had kissed him goodbye.

House knocked on his front door, a terrible sense of dread overcoming him. His father opened it and yanked him into the sitting room.

"You deliberately disobeyed my instructions. You broke into my house and stole my property. You even dragged one of you're stupid friends into it"

"Wilson isn't stupid" House objected. He regretted it at once as the resulting blow sent him sprawling on the carpet. His father pulled him sharply back up.

"I bet you filched off his family again, didn't you? Making yourself look like a pathetic charity case"

"I didn't. His parents like me"

"No one likes you" John House laughed. House didn't look up or object. His father smacked him hard around the face, twisting his neck and making his jaw click unnaturally. House's sharp intake of breath was the only indicator of pain he gave. "I'll give you a choice. Belt or bath?"

"Father, please don't" House begged. He felt weak, dirty, stupid. He knew he needed to be punished. But that didn't make it easier. He remembered the stinging cold of the ice bath and the smell of his blood as he was hit by the belt. He was sixteen, too old to be belted, too old to be naked in front of his father. He didn't want to choose.

"Ten, nine, eight..." House's father counted down. The boy was shaking, terrified of the consequences of his choice. Terrified that he wouldn't make a decision in time.

"Father, please" House tried, desperately, to get out of it.

"Five, four, three..."

"Belt" House yelled on two. He immediately regretted the decision. But he would have regretted either option. He was almost in tears as he anticipated the pain.

"Turn around to face the wall" House wasn't expecting that. He followed the instruction, his legs shaking. "Put your hands on the wall to support yourself" House did as he was told, his shaking intensifying as he realised he would have to stand up for his beating. He could hear his father unbuckling the heavy leather belt he had worn especially. A single tear rolled down the boy's face as his entire body tensed in anticipation. He screamed as the buckle jabbed into his skin, creating a new deep cut adding to the myriad of old scars on his back. It seemed to continue indefinitely, until sweat and blood mingled running down House's back.

"Please stop, I can't..." House faded out.

"You look hot. Why don't you have a bath?" John House leered. House almost fainted. He was going to be forced into an ice bath on top of his belting.

"Father, please! Please! I won't do anything stupid ever again. I'll do anything you say, just please don't do this!" House wailed. His father grabbed the back of his neck and pushed him to the freezer.

"Get the ice" he said, the cold in his voice affecting House more than the blast of air from the freezer. He took two buckets of ice cubes and made his way slowly upstairs, crying silently. He couldn't let his father see him cry. John House dumped the buckets into the bath, sending ice chips flying. House whimpered at the familiar sound and the humiliating order "Strip"

House peeled off his clothes. His t-shirt with the slogan 'Scared of hell? Try logic' was damp with sweat and had twelve blood stains on the back. House stepped towards the bath, unwilling to postpone the inevitable. He hung his head in shame and defeat as his father shoved him forward. He got into the ice bath and fire burned every nerve in his fragile body.

"This is your punishment for being an idiot. You don't deserve compassion, Gregory, you're not worth it" John House ruffled his son's curly hair, which in any other circumstance would have been a demonstration of a father's affection. But House couldn't keep the word sadistic out of his shivering brain. Five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen... House counted up the minutes. Twenty... Twenty two. He'd never been in longer than twenty two minutes. His feet were numb, his entire body shaking violently.

"Father, please can I get out. I can't feel my legs"

"Shut up" John House dismissed. After three more minutes, he stood up and yanked his son out of the bath. He handed the shivering House a towel and left the room. House collected his clothes and followed. His father was standing outside his bedroom door, a lightbulb rolling between his fingers. "You don't need the light, you don't have any books" his father said

"But it'll be totally dark in there" House protested between chattering teeth. His father made a sarcastic cry baby face at him and pushed him inside the room. When the door slammed shut and locked, blackness overwhelmed him. There was not light at all. He couldn't see. And he hated it.


	7. Chapter 7

It was five days before the door creaked open again, letting blinding light in. House was sitting on the floor, clutching his knees to his chest. He squinted and moaned at the bright light after so long in complete darkness. His stomach was squirming with unbearable hunger, his throat burning with thirst. His father had left a litre bottle of water on his bed, but it had been empty for over 30 hours. House had been counting minutes.

"Get up. I need you to run some errands for me."

"Can I-" House croaked, his voice grating in his dry throat, having stayed silent for five days. His father threw a bottle of water at him as well as a five dollar bill. House downed the water in three smooth gulps, spilling bits down his chin.

"I need a paper and some coffee. Get me them"

"Y-yes father" House whispered. He stood, trembling on his unsteady muscles. He stepped out of his dark room and into the brightness of the hallway. He put his hand up to his eyes, shielding them. He flinched away from his father.

"I hope you understand why you needed to be punished, Gregory. If you would just learn..."

House stumbled down the stairs and out of the door into the piercingly bright sunlight. He groaned, his head splitting with the pain of the light. His bike was still parked outside the front door, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He jumped on the red motorcycle and revved the engine, loving the purr and the vibrations from the beast beneath him. His legs were already straining as he re-stretched them around the bike. First stop, newspaper. He went far over the speed limit, loving the sensation of being allowed to move. He skidded to a halt outside the supermarket and got off his bike, parking in the dedicated space. He caught sight of himself in the shop window and sighed. He looked disheveled and tired, bags under his eyes, his t-shirt stained with sweat, a new bruise turning yellow on his neck. He wouldn't be able to buy the paper and the coffee without questions.

"Y'all right, lad?" came from the first man in a thick Australian accent, accompanied by a bored looking young chid and a very tall, dark haired woman.

"I'm fine, thank you sir" House said, uncharacteristically stiffly and politely, wishing no one would ask. The man stuck out his hand to shake House's and House accidentally flinched away from the contact. Infuriated by his own idiocy, House fixed a smile to his features and shook the hand.

"Rowan Chase. And you are?"

"House. Greg House"

"Hello House. Well, have a good day" House looked down at the child holding his father's hand and smiled genuinely at him, looking straight into his warm green eyes, already sparking with intelligence.

"Thank you. And you too" House said quietly, glancing back at the child who hadn't taken his eyes off him. "Hey, wait, you're not... THE Rowan Chase, are you?" the blonde man turned, beaming.

"You know me?"

"I've read every book you've written! Your discoveries in Rheumatology were ground breaking! It's amazing to meet you!" House shoved his hand out, actually wanting the man's contact. He was famous all around the world!

"Daddy, who is he?" the little boy piped up. The mother rubbed the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. House recognised the bloodshot eyes and aversion to light and sound that he got after a drinking night.

"A boy who reads Daddy's books, Robbie"

"I found your 'Exploration of Juvenile Arthritis' fascinating" House said, trying to disguise his pleasure at meeting the man behind all his favourite books.

"Thank you. You're quite young to be reading my books. Aren't you?"

"I'm almost 17" House said, a slight tone of indignation in his voice. Rowan Chase laughed, impressed by the young man.

"Sorry, sorry" he said, chuckling. House felt embarrassed. "I have to go, but when you finish High School I'd be interested in having you on my internship program in Australia. I'd certainly look twice at your application" House's eyes widened. Him? Go to Australia with one of the greatest medical minds alive?

"Wow. I'd love to, sir" House said eagerly. Rowan Chase pulled a business card from his pocket.

"How many years left?"

"I'm going into senior year in September"

"Ah, ahead of yourself"

"Yes sir"

"Well then, I hope to see you in 18 months. Call me in January next year"

"I will, Dr. Chase, I will" House took the business card and watched Rowan Chase turn and walk away. The toddler clutching onto his hand looked back at House and waved. House conceded to wave back, fascinated by the boy's sparkling eyes. When the family was out of sight, House leapt into the air, a whoop of joy escaping his lips. He turned into the store, beaming, ignoring the people staring at him. He grabbed a paper and a takeaway coffee and went back home. Not even the thought of his father worried him, he was protected by the blonde Australian man who seemed impressed by him.

"Where've you been?" his father's voice came from very close to his ear. House's bubble burst.

"G-getting your paper" House stammered.

"You took a long time'

"Sorry"

"Go and get yourself looking like a human being. You look disgusting" House nodded and went back upstairs to clean up. He got new clothes from his dark room, hesitating to go inside, glancing behind him, afraid he would see his father in the doorway, preparing to lock him in again. Taking his clothes to the bathroom, he showered, revelling in the warm water massaging his sore back, shaved, brushed his hair, scrubbed his teeth which felt fluffy, and got dressed. He looked at himself in the mirror. Better than before. But, in his opinion- shared by his father, he'd never exactly win a beauty pageant. He made his way downstairs.

"Father, may I go out now?" he asked tentatively

"Yes, get out of my sight" John House spat. Only three more days before he could go back out to fight rather than sitting here babysitting this annoying boy.

"I'm going to sleep over at Wilson's" he said.

"Fine" House left before his father could change his mind, pulling on his leather jacket as he shut the front door. He left his bike and walked slowly over to Wilson's.

"House!" Wilson greeted enthusiastically, relieved to see his friend after a week of worrying.

"Hey Wilson" House said, a weary note creeping into his voice. He was starving. Around 130 hours without eating. He felt faint.

"Are you okay, you look really pale" Wilson said, concerned. House nodded, dismissing the question before toppling over like a deadweight into Wilson's arms.


	8. Chapter 8

Beeping machines disturbed House's dream. Not that he was disappointed. It hadn't been a good one. Where was he? What happened? He couldn't think properly. He was cloudy. A woman in green scrubs came and stood by his bed.

"Hello, Greg"

"House"

"Yes, Greg House, that's your name" she sounded a little confused, after all, concussion hadn't been on the list of things to look out for.

"Just House. Not- not Greg" House murmured, wincing at the pain that was slowly resurfacing.

"What happened to you, Mr House?"

"Just House!" he snapped "and nothing happened, I'm fine"

"Your friend, the one who brought you here, he says that your father-"

"Noting wrong with my father"

"He said that you get hit when he's home" she said gently.

"He's insane. Delusional"

"You're covered in bruises and scars, House"

"I play sport"

"I think it's more than that"

"Well... You're wrong" House spat. He couldn't risk telling. Just two more years and then he could leave forever. But not if the government got involved. The nurse looked him up and down sympathetically and increased his morphine. The boy's face relaxed as the pain dissipated.

"You need to tell someone"

"There's nothing to tell. Nothing at all."

By the time they released him from hospital House's father was back on the other side of the world and his mother was back straightening their home. House was limping slightly down their front drive when Blythe House emerged from their door and ran down the path to greet him. She pulled him into a rib crushing hug, close to tears.

"My baby- what happened? Tell me everything Greg. Your friend Wilson's mother and father came round and said you needed to tell me something important" she was practically begging him with her eyes not to say anything she couldn't handle. House was an inch or so taller than his mother and he had to look down at her. He could bare to see her cry. There was no way he could tell her about her husband. Besides, he wasn't sure he could face her thinking he was lying.

"Nothing happened, Mom. I was dehydrated and a bit hungry, and I fainted. It happens all the time. Low blood sugar"

"Are you sure? What did the Wilson's want you to tell me?"

"That I need a new jumper. My leather jacket's getting too baggy"

"The doctor said you were really underweight"

"I'm never hungry. I play sports" was that his excuse for everything? He'd said it so many times in the last few days.

"Okay baby, we'll make sure you get some food in you"

"Fine" House blinked. She had accepted his story out of desperation. He pitied her. But he loved her too. Blythe hugged her son and led him inside, supporting him slightly. House touched his bike on the way in, the red metal shining in the sunlight. His father would be away 8 months. He had time.

Cuddy leaned into House's shoulder. They were sitting on Wilson's bed watching a movie on his laptop.

"Do you two mind?" Wilson asked. They were almost on top of each other. Cuddy turned to face her boyfriend of almost six months and kissed him. He grinned, kissing her back, watching Wilson's facial expression change from annoyance to disgust. "Don't go any further on MY bed thanks"

"He'll be lucky" Cuddy said, slapping Wilson around the shoulder playfully and laughing at House's hurt face.

"Have you guys not..." Wilson asked, delightedly

"Wilson" House warned

"Oh my gosh, you haven't! Pinch me!" House kicked him hard in the leg and Wilson laughed, rubbing the spot.

"Shut up James" Cuddy said, her face turning a bright shade of red

"Sorry Lisa, I can't help it! You're probably the only girl in the school House hasn't slept with. I think that means he likes you, in his own twisted little way" Wilson laughed at House and Cuddy's blushes and went back to watching the film.

Three hours later, House and Cuddy were back at Cuddy's house, after saying a cheerful goodbye to Wilson and his brothers.

"How many girls _have_ you slept with?" Cuddy asked suddenly.

"What?"

"How many?"

"Do you really want me to tell you?"

"You're always telling everyone about your... Exploits. I want to know how many"

"Lisa..." House sighed

"Greg! Tell me!" Cuddy was getting worried. All the girls talked about him. Everyone on Cuddy's cheer leading team claimed to have slept with him.

"I- including you?"

"We haven't"

"None then" House said quickly, not meeting her eye. Cuddy looked shocked. She'd been expecting at least 20 from her head count. None?

"None?"

"I already said it, don't make me say it again. And if you tell anyone else-" he warned

"I won't tell Wilson" Cuddy grinned. House was the most popular boy in the school- mysterious, a player, hot... But he'd never actually... Cuddy wondered about all the girls who boasted about him. "I think it's time to remedy the situation" she said, gracefully sliding down House's body and unbuttoning his jeans belt.

"Oh. Okay" House said, sticking one hand into her long hair and using the other to undo the buttons on her white blouse. He had never been happier.

"You slept with Cuddy? And she let you?"

"Bloody Sherlock Holmes you are"

"All right, all right, I believe you. I still don't know how you landed her"

"Me neither. Look, don't go spreading it around either. I actually think I love her, and I don't want to blow it for the approval of sweaty teenage football players"

"House and Cuddy, sitting in a tree..." Wilson sang annoyingly

"You're such a child sometimes, you know that?" House said disapprovingly. Sure, Wilson was always there for him, but he could get a little irritating sometimes. Wilson grinned at his friend wickedly. He was relived to see House so... Not miserable. There were no bruises on his face or neck. He had gained a little weight and no longer looked so disproportioned. He had got a tan from the amount of time the boys spent outside together, jogging, playing catch and generally mucking about.

"When does your dad get back from the East?" Wilson asked gently. House's face darkened.

"63 days"

"Precise"

"Counting the days of freedom"

"Sorry I brought it up"

"No, I wanted to talk to you about it. Your parents went to see my Mom, after you carted me off to hospital unnecessarily."

"We were trying to help. You needed help"

"I was fine. I had to lie through my teeth to six different people, including my own mother. And that was bleeding difficult. She's like a polygraph"

"Why can't you just tell the truth?"

"No one ever believes me"

"We believe you"

"You don't count. Anyway, when are you going to ask that girl in the grade below out? Sam isn't it?"


	9. Chapter 9

**18 months later**

"Hello, this is Dr. Chase's office"

"This is Greg House, I'm applying for the internship with Dr. Chase?"

"Okay, I'll put you through"

"Thanks" House's palms were sweating.

"Ello" came a shrill, very young voice from the other end. House heard a cry of "Robbie, get off that" followed by a soft slap and a "Sooooory" whine.

"Hello? Dr. Chase?"

"Hello? Who is this?" said the frazzled older voice. "Robbie! Go and find one of the nurses and get them to take you to Oncology. You can play with the children. I'm sorry, who is this?"

"Er- it's Greg House, we met in New Jersey and you asked me to apply for the internship"

"Oh yes, I remember" the man said animatedly. "I take it you'd still like to apply"

"Yes, please! I sent in my application form"

"Really?" there was a rummaging sound and then a cry of triumph "got it! Sorry, House, my son Robbie's been in my office and mucked about with all my stuff."

"That's fine" there was a silence as Rowan Chase looked over House's application.

"Top of the school. Perfect GPA. Sports captain in lacrosse, football and soccer. Awards for debating, rowing, boxing, science and math. Graduating a year early. Speak 6 languages. This is very, very impressive, House"

"Thank you sir"

"I would love to have you on my program. It starts in three weeks time, can you get here?"

"Definitely"

"Okay, House, I'll see you in three weeks!"

"Thank you! You won't regret it!"

"I'm sure I won't" Rowan said, enamoured by the strange boy. He hung up with a chuckle, and span around on his chair to find his son chewing a medical file. Chewing it! "Robert!"

House put down the phone, quivering with happiness. He'd waited until three in the morning so he could call Dr. Chase during the Australian's office hours. House laughed, letting a small whoop escape his lips. It was August, the heat had been almost oppressive, especially when House couldn't wear short sleeves. But by the time he left for Australia, his father would be in Japan on tour. He could leave freely. House dived into bed without judging the distance properly and smashed his shoulder into the wall. He winced, the evidence from his last brush with his father's law still raw and black on his skin. Rubbing it, he rediscovered the happiness. Rowan Chase, one of the most famous doctors ever, wanted him, a beaten kid from New Jersey, to go to Australia to work for him. It was a dream come true. House phoned Wilson, forgetting how early it was.

"Wha-" came the sleepy, disgruntled voice of Wilson from the other end of the phone.

"I got the internship! I'm going to Australia in three weeks!" House whispered loudly.

"Wow, House, that's great" Wilson yawned. "Call me back in the morning?"

"Five minutes! I'm freaking out here, Wilson!"

"Okay, okay. When did you find out?"

"About a minute ago"

"How do you plan on getting to Australia?"

"I- I hadn't thought about it."

"My parents will take you to the airport"

"Thanks"

"Do you have the cash to book a ticket?"

"No"

"Do your parents?"

"My father keeps $2000 lodged into a copy of Crime and Punishment"

"You could take it" Wilson said, knowing how badly his friend needed to get away, how much he needed to be a doctor. Wilson shared the same dream, although not with House's passionate intensity.

"Wilson, are you encouraging me?" House mocked

"You need this" Wilson said. House nodded invisibly. He had decided. "There's another problem, House"

"What?"

"Cuddy. What's she going to say when you tell her you're leaving?" House had not spared a thought for his girlfriend. He remembered in a flood of fear. Two years next month. A week after he set off for the other side of the world. Shit.

"I hadn't thought..." House trailed off.

"I need to go. School in the morning. You're going to have to tell her"

"Bye Wilson"

"Bye House" the phone clicked and the tone buzzed in House's ear. He didn't put it down, listening to the white noise blocked his own thoughts. What would he say to Cuddy? She wouldn't wait for him for a year. She had her own life to lead.

The next day, House left his home almost an hour earlier than normal. His lip was ripped down the middle from a particularly nasty encounter with a 'door'. He sped on his bike past the school, the wind driving at his hair and face, pushing his curls off his forehead. He realised he was going too fast before anything happened and slowed down. The wind slowed against his hair and his thoughts flooded back. He could leave. In just three weeks, and leave his father and stinking New Jersey and his dark bedroom. He could be surfing in the Australian sunshine by September. And there was only one thing holding him back from the best thing that would ever happen to him. The other best thing. Damn you Lisa Cuddy, House whispered to the rushing air. The girl or the career? Lisa Cuddy or Rowan Chase? House hated how easy a decision it was to make.

The school bell rang as House parked his bike. He looked windswept and shook his head to relieve the dust that had accumulated there to stares and giggles from large groups of teenage girls. They always loved his injuries. Made him look wounded. House spotted a brown haired girl about 15 years younger than him being carried by a boy in his grade. She would be pretty, House thought.

"Allie, come on, let me go. I've got to get to class" said the blonde boy holding the toddler. Allie Cameron, House mused. Interesting name. His thoughts were broken by Cuddy's call across the play ground. House strapped his helmet to the handle bars and jogged over to her. He grabbed her shoulders and kissed her manically, wanting to feel her solid presence. Wanting to know she was there. Cuddy felt weak, and corrected herself to kiss him back. He was always passionate, she reasoned. No different today. But she had a feeling something was very different. For one thing his lip was split, and her tongue had to avoid it. She didn't want to hurt him. For another, he seemed to be piling a goodbye into the physical contact. For another, she was getting uncomfortable at the sheer amount of people snickering and whispering. She even heard a younger teenage girl crying. She smiled, knowing how lucky she was to be in a real relationship with Gregory House.

"I love you Lisa" House gasped, pulling away from her.

"I love you too" she said, puzzled. Was that a tear in his bright blue eyes? What was wrong?

"Let's go talk. We both have study hall" Cuddy was unperturbed that he knew her timetable. She had known his since the day he came. They walked off the campus to the park where, all those months ago, House had abandoned them to get drunk and stoned.

"What do you want to talk about?" asked Cuddy. He was going to break up with her. He was going to break up with her. He was going to break up with her. Cuddy tried to keep her composure, but the mantra repeated.

"I- I'm going away"

"Where?"

"Australia"

"Australia?"

"Yeah. I'll be gone a year. I don't expect you to wait for me. I guess you have your own plans..." he trailed off.

"Are you... Breaking up with me?"

"What? No!" House looked shocked that she could suggest it. "No Lisa, I love you!"

"You want to go to Australia?"

"Yeah. On a one year medical internship with Rowan Chase"

"Rowan Chase? Seriously?"

"Yes, he offered me a place"

"Wow. You have to go" she hated to say it. But House was going to be a great doctor, everyone could see it. He was going to be spectacular. He had to go.

"I don't want to leave you"

"I'll be here when you get back"

"You'll be the year ahead of me at college"

"But we'll be at the same school"

"If I get in. I don't interview well" he explained to Cuddy's blank expression.

"Well then... When are you leaving?"

"In three weeks. Four days before our two year anniversary"

"Then we have to celebrate before hand" she said, wiping a stray tear from her eye as she turned away from the by lying next to her. 'you're a big girl now Lise, eighteen. Don't you go crying in front of him' she told herself sternly. But then she remembered how House had cried to her, that first night. How he had been so warm pressed against her body. How much she wanted to protect him. So she cried. And House bundled her up in his arms, amazed that someone actually cared- really cared that he was leaving. Cuddy breathed in the soft smell of his sweat and his old leather jacket. She wouldn't smell him for a year. Maybe more. Maybe forever.

"Are you feeling better now?" House said quietly, stroking her hair.

"I promise, I won't be in any other relationships. I'll wait for you"

"Me too. But you don't have to. If you decide I'm not... worth it, then don't waste time thinking about me"

"You are worth it, Greg. You're my boyfriend. My best friend. I love you"

"I love you too. But I don't want you to be tied to me. I want you to enjoy yourself. As long as you don't dump me for... For Wilson!" he joked. Cuddy giggled. Half the story she'd told her father had been true.

"I'm pretty sure you're safe on that one" she said, their eyes meeting. They both dipped in for another kiss.

"Mom, can I talk to you" House asked, poking his head through the door to where his parents were sitting in silence, pretending to watch America's Got Talent or some other equally boring show.

"Of course dear" Blythe said, standing up. She and her son went out onto the porch. House began to light a cigarette, but his mother put her hand on his, stopping him. "Your father smoked, when we were young. You've heard his terrible cough"

"Yeah. Well"

"I know you two have had your differences, but can't you put them behind you for the summer?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, Mom. I got an internship for a year in a hospital, working for some of the greatest doctors in the world! You've seen the name Rowan Chase on my books? It's with him" House was grinning, knowing how much it meant to him.

"Where is it?"

"Australia" House whispered.

"Oh Greg, you can't just go off to Australia for a year on your own, you're only seventeen."

"But I finished High School"

"I know darling, but I can't just let you-" she broke off at the sight of hot tears spilling down her son's face. She hadn't seen him cry in ten years. "Oh baby"

"I have to go, Mom. I have to"

"Okay darling. If it's really, really what you want to do"

"It is Mom. I have to"

"I'll get you the money for the plane. We'll send you an allowance each month. I expect you'll need a surf board too!" she joked, relived that her son had stopped crying.

"Thanks Mom. You know I love you, right?"

"I love you too. You are so much loved" she hugged him tight, hating how thin he was, how delicate, how he winced when she gripped too tight. How much she knew her baby hurt. But she couldn't do anything. At least this would get him away for a year. At least he would be safe on the other side of the world. Blythe shuddered at the thought of what her home had become. A dull place where her only son was disliked and punished for her mistakes. She began to cry with the shame of it. Mother and son cried together on the front porch, holding each other tightly.


	10. Chapter 10

Saying goodbye was hard, House decided. He stood at the airport, surrounded by people. His Mom stood beside him, holding onto his suitcase. Wilson's parents had finished hugging him and wishing him whispered good lucks. House had shaken hands with Danny Wilson, who looked high, and Kent Cuddy, who looked embarrassed. He'd never much liked House. The only two people left were Cuddy and Wilson themselves. Wilson hugged him, ignoring the hand House had extended to shake. Wilson's hair somehow made its way into House's nose, and he smelt his best friend's dandruff shampoo. House smiled, the smell reminded him of years of talking late at night, of playing basket ball, going fishing with Wilson's dad and brother. House hugged Wilson back. Wilson drew away, a tear sliding down his smiling face, stepping back to his family. Them Cuddy. Just Cuddy. House stepped to her and pulled her into a tight hug, kissing her full on the mouth, much to the amusement of everyone else.

"I'll miss you so much" Cuddy whispered

"I'll call you every day. Skype" he sniffed

"You'd better go before your Mom starts fussing over those big blue eyes of yours" she said, laughing musically. They broke apart. House wiped away her tear and promised he would be back. House hugged his mother again and dragged his large case, his guitar and his blue rucksack after him into the terminal. He looked back and waved to the crowd, losing his friend's faces in the throng.

He stepped off the aeroplane into the heavy heat, the humidity sticking in his throat immediately. After collecting his luggage and navigating himself through the Melbourne airport, he spotted a vaguely familiar blond head. He strode over to Rowan Chase and shook his hand.

"Hello, House. You certainly look better than last time I saw you, although just as tired!"

"Long flight" House excused himself.

"I know. My son hates the America Australia trip"

"Do you go often?"

"Five or six times a year, I guess. Robert comes on most trips. More important than the crap they teach in schools. Finger painting and sand pits!" Rowan grinned and House laughed, agreeing.

"How old is Robert?"

"seven"

"Lovely"

"I don't think we told you much about the arrangements for your accommodation. Because you're so young, I've taken loco parentis. Know what that means?"

"It means you're my guardian"

"Yes, and that means you can stay at my home."

"Really? Oh wow, thank you" House said. He hadn't even thought about where he would sleep.

"We live right on the beach. You'll have to share with Robbie, but he has a large room. We've cornered off a bed, some draws, a desk and some floor for you. Although, I'm sure his toys will quickly intrude on your space"

"That's fine, sir, I quite like little kids" House admitted. He felt like he could be himself around the man. He liked him.

"Even so, you may find Robert a little... Exuberant. He's quite intelligent, but he hasn't really learnt how to talk to people yet"

"I don't mind"

"Well, he's your roommate for the year, and no matter how annoying he gets, he's a lovely kid"

"Thanks again"

"What for?"

"For... For changing my life"


	11. Chapter 11

House adored Australia. Before long, he had made friends both on and off his internship programme. He was revelling in the world of the hospital, enjoying solving the puzzles that come not only with the patient files but with the patient themselves. He especially loved looking after Robbie, going surfing and playing in a band with the other teenage boys. On one lazy Sunday afternoon, House had taken Robbie down to the beach, hardly a two minute walk. Robbie was allowed out there by himself because his mother could see him from the kitchen window, but House was always a little worried for the young boy. He was inquisitive, often following small animals a mile or more up the beach to watch them. He was also clever, having spent his whole childhood in hospitals and around the best medical minds in history. House spotted his friend Gil lying on the beach, his arm around a generic blonde girl.

"House!" the boy stood up, grinning. "Haven't seen you around"

"Been busy at the hospital. But Dr. Chase said I had to take a full weekend to relax"

"Know what, you're the only teenager I've ever heard complain about taking a break from work!"

"Always been an odd one!" House grinned. He sat down on the white sand and Gil flopped down next to him. Both boys had surfboards leaning against a fence that separated the Chase's land from public beach.

"What is that kid doing?" Gil laughed at Robbie. He had a crab upside down, laugh at how the legs moved.

"Put it down Robbie, you might hurt it"

"I didn't hurt it!" Robbie objected, sticking his tongue out at House. The little boy had come to think of him as an older brother. House quite liked being a part of a family, even when he knew it would end in a few short months. He stopped his train of thought when his brain started working out how many weeks he had left in paradise. He'd only been there four months. He had plenty of time. House stood up and kicked off his sandals. Gil grinned and copied. The boys raced in the sand to their surfboards, turned quickly and sprinted, neck and neck, back to the water. House was half a foot ahead when they dived into the bright blue warm ocean. He lay on his board, rocking in the waves as Gil stood and caught the waves. House had been practicing his surfing, and he soon got up and rode a few of the slightly smaller waves further inland. Robbie scuffed his feet in the sand, contentedly burying his left hand. House smiled. He was more at home there than he had ever been.

"Robbie, come in the water!" House called. Robbie pulled his hand up out of the sand and raced into the waves. He pushed House off his board and stood up on it, striking a surfer pose and flicking his shaggy blonde hair away from his eyes. He started showing off on the bigger waves that House was secretly afraid of trying. House trod water, watching Gil and Robbie surf. Robbie was good, having spent all his time out of hospitals in the ocean. He was strong, and already had defined muscles. House remembered how different he'd looked at the same age and sighed.

"Look at me, Greg, look at me!" Robbie called "Watch this wave!"

"Go for it kiddo" the wave was big, and Robbie poked his tongue through his lips and rode it perfectly, kicking off a stream of water behind him. He whooped and House clapped above his head. Robbie jumped off the board and paddled over to House.

"I want you to stay forever" he whispered.


	12. Chapter 12

House woke up on a warm Sunday morning and stretched. The sun was already shining brightly on the water, and House looked up at the ceiling where the reflections of the ocean dappled the white paint. He turned over and looked out of the huge window to the white beach and bright blue water. He smiled softly. Nothing hurt, he was happy, the world was beautiful. The only possible thing to be unhappy about was that he only had two months left before he went home. But then he would go almost straight to college. House got out of bed and got dressed in his long shorts and a white t-shirt. He was starting to feel Australian. He even had the accent down. He wore an Aborigine necklace with a shark tooth hanging from it that Rowan Chase had bought him. House thought of the man as close to a father. Robbie was already out of bed and downstairs. House sat down at the kitchen table and was soon presented with pancakes. Lilly Chase kissed the top of his head as she handed him a knife and fork. She hadn't had her morning drink yet, House couldn't smell the alcohol on her breath.

"Good morning, Greg, dear. It's lovely to see you looking so happy"

"Thanks, Lilly" he smiled. He was happy, he realised. For the first time in his life, no one was mean to him, he wasn't in pain and he was... part of a family. Robbie finished his breakfast and the seven year old jumped down from the table.

"Are we going surfing today, Greg?" he asked enthusiastically

"If your dad says it's okay"

"You know what, though, I'd rather go listen to your band, I love your music"

"Okay, we have rehearsal this arvo, you can come if you want" he said. Robbie balled up his fist and struck the air with a celebratory 'yes'. House smiled.

"Can I go get your guitar?"

"Now?"

"Yeah"

"Okay. Get the red pick too" Robbie jumped down from the bar stool around the island and sprinted upstairs.

"I'm so glad you came here, Greg, you've been so good for Robbie, showing him what it's like to be a big brother" Lilly patted her stomach and smiled.

"He's really looking forward to seeing his sister"

"I know. We're looking forward to it too"

"Have you decided a name for her yet?"

"Well, Rowan and I wanted to talk to you and Robbie about that. Let me get him" Lilly went through to the sitting room where Rowan was watching a documentary about sharks. The couple came back into the kitchen, closely followed by Robbie, who was carefully carrying House's acoustic guitar.

"Hello boys," Rowan said, sitting down at the island "we wanted to talk to you about Robbie's little sister"

"We were wondering if you two would like to help choose her name" Lilly said. The adults beamed and Robbie nodded, already pointing his tongue out in concentration.

"What, me too?" House asked, surprised.

"Yeah, of course. We seem to have started to include you in family decisions recently" Rowan smiled. He had come to think of the young man as his surrogate son. House looked shocked. Family. The word reverberated around his head. Family.

"What about Lilly?" Robbie asked

"Well, that's my name, dear" Lilly said gently.

"But I like it. What about Rose?"

"How about something less flowery?" Rowan said

"Pasta!" Robbie joked.

"Jenny" House suggested

"Paula" Rowan said

"Letta" Lilly fired

"Sandy" House tried again

"Bug" Robbie again

"Elizabeth" Lilly said. The name suggestions kept coming, nothing sounding quite right.

"What about... What about Lisa?" House suggested tentatively. Lilly and Rowan stopped sprouting names, although Robbie continued to say random words.

"I like that" Lilly said.

"Lisa Chase. Lisa Chase" Rowan tested, rolling the name around his mouth.

"Lisa Emma Chase" Lilly completed.

"That sounds good, Greg" Rowan said. Lilly nodded. "What do you think, Robbie?"

"I prefer Bug Snot Chase. But Lisa Emma's okay, I guess"

"Who votes for Bug Snot?" Rowan asked. Robbie half raised his hand, grinning. "And Lisa Emma" everyone else raised their hands. "Looks like we have a name. Congrats Greg, you just named our kid"

"Thanks Dr. Chase" House smiled, feeling accepted.

"And you can drop the Dr. and Mrs. Chase thing now too. Rowan and Lilly" Rowan said, ruffling House's hair. House ducked playfully away, laughing. After all, he wasn't going to sacrifice all dignity to belong to this little family.


	13. Chapter 13

Robbie and House walked across the sand over to Gil's house where they had band practice. House was the singer and guitarist, Gil was on drums and Fletcher was on keyboard. The other boys high fived House as they came in. The room was small, decorated simply. The white walls were plastered in posters of 70s bands, the floor was made of painted white wooden planks and covered with a pale red rug. The windows let light flood in and gave them a perfect view of the deserted beach.

"Hey guys. Robbie wanted to come along, that okay?"

"Sure" Gil said, high fiving Robbie too. "Right, let's get down to business! Start with Dreaming?" the others nodded their consent and they began to play.

"That was awesome!" Robbie said when they'd finished.

"Cheers little man" Fletcher said

"I want to learn to play like that! Will you teach me guitar properly when we get home, Greg?"

"Sure, if you want" House smiled at the boy. He was wearing faded blue shorts and a green t-shirt. House had started to think of the kid as his brother. The band started up again, playfully arguing over lyrics and melodic changes, occasionally asking Robbie for objective input, until they realised he was always on House's side. As the sun started to set, the boys packed away their instruments.

"See you tomorrow, House" Fletcher called as House and Robbie walked back up the beach to the Chase's house. They went in, and Robbie immediately offered to take the guitar upstairs. House sat down on the sofa next to Rowan and stretched.

"Hey Greg, how was your day?"

"Great thanks, we had a good band practice"

"I could hear some of it from here!"

"Oh- sorry about that"

"No, no it was good. If I wasn't so keen to have you as a doctor, I'd encourage you to pursue music as a career"

"Really?" House was flattered

"Yes really. But I wanted to talk to you about something" his tone became serious

"What's wrong?"

"I got a call from your father last night"

"From my father?" House echoed "What did he say?"

"He was intoxicated, practically incapacitated. He made several threats against your life"

"I'm so sorry you had to-"

"That doesn't matter. I'm worried about you, Greg"

"You don't need to be. I'm eighteen now, I can look after myself when I get home"

"I was wondering... if this is the first time your father has threatened you. Maybe he's even carried out some of his threats?" Rowan tried to tease out information from his famously closed off student.

"I- he- I guess"

"Did he hit you, Greg?" Rowan asked, dreading the answer

"I guess" House mumbled. He didn't want to admit it. But he didn't want to lie.

"Did he abuse you?"

"I suppose"

"Oh Greg... tell me about it. Tell me everything"

"You remember when we met, in New Jersey?"

"Yeah"

"That was the first time I'd been allowed out of my room in a week. I hadn't eaten anything in six days. Before my father locked me in my room, which didn't have any windows or a light, he beat me with his belt and made me have a bath in ice. I can't even remember what I did"

"Shit"

"He burned all my books on a bonfire in the garden. All my medical texts, my collections of your books, all the story books my Mom used to read to me, everything" House was struggling not to cry. He'd never told anyone everything. Rowan was speechless. How could a father do that to his son? He couldn't imagine laying a hand on Robbie to any extent that it actually hurt him.

"What about your Mom? Why didn't she stop him?"

"She didn't know. Not how bad it was"

"How could she not know?"

"I don't know. Father and I used to lie to her. He'd say I tripped or fell into doors, and I'd back him up. She didn't need the burden."

"Did you ever tell anyone?"

"My friends guessed- well, Wilson did anyway. He told his parents. They tried, but they couldn't help"

"What about your girlfriend?"

"She'd be hard put not to notice, don't you think? You know the second I take off my shirt"

"May I see, Greg? I want to know..." Rowan stopped talking. Perhaps he'd taken a step too far, after all, the boy had only just told him.

"I- I d-... If you want" House struggled. He pulled his long sleeved t-shirt above his head and put it on the sofa beside him. Rowan couldn't help staring. Bright white scars covered House's back, some vertical, some horizontal, some diagonal. A single scar went from his left side by his ribcage down to his stomach and disappeared under his belt. But Rowan couldn't take his eyes off House's arms. Sure, there were half moon scars left by fingernails, but what Rowan was looking at was the line of white and red marks going down House's arm. Rowan had seen those marks before. They were the marks of a razor blade.

"Greg... Did you do that to yourself?" Rowan whispered. It was just too sad, his genius student being beaten and starved by his father, then still hurting enough to cut himself. House grabbed his shirt and yanked it back on. He stood up, and walked away back to his room. He collapsed on his bed, unable to stop the tears flowing down his cheeks onto the pillow. He wished Cuddy was there. He needed her.

Rowan sat, cold, on the sofa, his mind reeling at the grotesque marks on the boy's body. He thought of Robbie. He could never, ever hit Robbie, not with his loose tooth and his wavy hair and his obsession with toy cars. Rowan smiled at the thought of his son. He could never hurt him. Rowan found himself wiping away a tear. He dedicated it to Gregory House.


	14. Chapter 14

House sat on his bed, surrounded by Robbie's toys. The boy was asleep, but House had kept himself awake so he could call Cuddy and Wilson. They had agreed to be at Wilson's to use his webcam so they could talk. House called Wilson's computer as the hour turned. After a few seconds Wilson picked up and his and Cuddy's faces flickered into view on House's laptop.

"Hey guys!" House whispered

"Hey House" his friends said almost in unison.

"You look fantastic" Cuddy said. It was true. He was a little taller, more muscular, tanned and had faint stubble growing. The disheveled look suited him well.

"Cheers. You too, baby"

"How's things in Oz?" Wilson said

"Fantastic. The Chase's are lovely. Rowan is a great teacher, Lilly is the best cook ever and Robbie is so sweet it's hard to describe!"

"Have you made any friends?" he asked warily

"Yeah, Gil and Fletcher. We're in a band"

"Nice" Wilson mumbled

"The Chase's are having a baby. A little girl. They asked me to help name her"

"That's lovely! What did you suggest?" Cuddy asked, suddenly wrapt with attention with the word baby.

"Jenny, Sandy... But they chose my other option"

"Oh yeah?"

"Lisa Emma Chase"

"Oh House!" Cuddy grinned. She pushed her brown curls away from her face as she blushed. "You got people on the other side of the world to name their kid after me?"

"I guess so"

"Do they know me?"

"Only as 'Cuddy- Greg's girlfriend'"

"They call you Greg?"

"Yeah. House just seemed unnatural with them"

"Oh, okay" she said, her happiness somehow dulled

"Anyway, how's university going?" said House, changing the topic

"I'm loving it" said Wilson

"Me too" said Cuddy. The three smiled at each other easily for a moment, then House heard Robbie stir.

"Greg?" Robbie whispered, "whatcha doin'?"

"It's okay Robbie, go back to sleep, yeah? I'm talking to my friends in America"

"Cuddy and Wilson?"

"Yeah"

"Hello Cuddy and Wilson!" he said brightly, getting out of bed.

"Heya Robbie" Cuddy said. Robbie stood in front of the camera, his doctor who pyjamas covered in a blue bathrobe, his blonde hair messy. House smoothed it down, letting him sit on his bed. Robbie curled into House's chest like a cat.

"Greg says you're his girlfriend"

"That's right"

"How come you've never come over to see him?"

"Because I'm at college and I can't visit"

"That's sad, if you love him"

"Yeah, it makes me sad"

"Does it make you sad?" Robbie asked, turning to House

"Of course it does"

"Do you want to go home?"

"Not quite yet, kiddo. I like it here too"

"I don't want you to go" Robbie's lip started quivering, and House drew him in for a hug. House carried him back to bed.

"You stay here, and I'll say goodnight when I've finished talking to my friends, okay?"

"Night night Cuddy and Wilson"

"Night night Robbie" they said. "He's so cute!" Cuddy exclaimed.

"Great roommate" Wilson said

"Never cleans up his toys"

"Reminds me of someone" Wilson teased.

"I guess I should go. Get him to bed. By the way, is my father at home?"

"Yeah, I went to say hi to your Mom this morning. She's been missing you"

"How was she?"

"Fine. Just a little worried that you hadn't called for a while"

"I'm not calling until he's gone"

"Fair enough" Wilson volunteered. House nodded.

"I think he's going to be home the day you get back, though" Cuddy said cautiously

"How long for?"

"About three weeks, then you'll start the college year"

"You can stay with me a couple of nights if you want" Wilson said

"Cheers. Anyway, we've got ages before then. Talk to you soon! Bye" the other two repeated his farewell and House shut the screen on his laptop.

"Why do they call you House?" Robbie asked

"Your family and my Mom are the only people in the world who call me Greg, you know"

"But that's your name"

"Yeah. But my friends all call me House. I call them by their surnames too. It's a weird kind of relaxed formality"

"I don't get that. No one calls me Chase"

"Maybe people will when you become a famous doctor like your dad"

"I don't want to be a doctor"

"Oh no? What do you want to be?"

"A pirate!"


	15. Chapter 15

House was sitting on his surf board a small distance off shore, allowing himself to float gently with the current. He was holding a small box in his right hand. Inside the box, there was his own tooth, the first one he had lost to a beating almost a decade before. House took the tooth from its box and stared at it. It was bright white, perfectly smooth and soft. It pointed at the end, cascading into an easy pinnacle. Running his finger across the grooves and chips, he balled it up in a fist as he remembered the pain that had come from the incident. It'd been one of his few real beatings.

_"You aren't good enough to be called my son" John House said quietly, knowing how much his words would sting. "You humiliated me tonight. In front of everyone from my regiment, all the people I'm in charge over. You make me ashamed" he was whispering close into his son's ear. He saw the track marks of tears on the boy's face, water filling up his bright blue eyes._

_"I'm sorry father" Gregory said. John backhanded him around the face, his wedding band hitting Gregory's cheek and leaving a red indentation in his skin._

_"I don't remember saying you could speak. In fact, it's speaking that did this in the first place"_

_"I-" Gregory broke off suddenly, his eyes flicking towards his father in fear. He flinched away from the slap. They stood in John's office, Gregory rod straight, his arms pinned to his sides in the centre of the room._

_"Do not speak, Gregory! I don't care what you have to say. Nothing _you_ can think of is worthwhile listening to anyway" John half taunted, half dismissed. Gregory looked down, ashamed. "How dare you disobey a direct order at the conference? How dare you screw up badly enough for them to laugh"_

_"But they were laughing at my joke" Gregory burst out, unable to stop himself. He snapped his hand over his mouth, his eyes wide with fear, his body beginning to tremble with what he knew was coming. John shoved him onto the floor so he lay on his back and knelt over him roughly. Gregory found his arms pinned painfully under his father's knees. John slammed his fist into his son's face. It was the Christmas holidays, no school for a fortnight. No discovery. Gregory whimpered as he felt his lip split. The fists came down over and over, and he heard his cheek shatter under the blows. He cried unscrupulously, heat and pain radiating around his face._

_"You are shameful. You are bad. You are stupid. You are incapable of descent human interaction. You are worthless." John punctuated every insult with a punch until he could hardly see his son's features for the mess of blood and bruises. John stood up, taking care to step on the boy's fingers as he released him. Gregory remained whimpering on the floor, clutching his hand between his legs and curling in on himself. "Get up" John said. Gregory whimpered again, wanting to obey but unable to stand. "Get up!" John screamed, spit flying from his mouth. Gregory flinched alway and pulled himself towards the bookshelf, hauling himself to his feet, gripping onto the sturdy wooden shelves with his mashed fingers. He spat out a mouthful of blood and a tooth into his other hand, whimpering as he felt the painful rip in his gum at the top of the gap with his tongue._

_"I thorry" Gregory slurred through the next mouthful of blood._

_"You look disgusting. You're a disgrace"_

_"Yeth thir"_

_"Wash and go to bed. I expect you to remain in your bedroom until tomorrow evening. I will check on you before breakfast"_

_"Yeth thir" Gregory repeated, trying desperately not to cry. He shuffled towards the door and went upstairs. He did what John told him, clutching his tooth in his painful hand, tears falling in torrents down his cheeks._

House shook his head, avoiding the present tears that were trying to push past his eyes. He allowed a few to fall, remembering the pain of that night. He stared at the milky tooth in his hand and swallowed painfully.

"I don't want to remember anymore" he whispered to himself. House balled his hand up into a fist, the tooth digging into his palm and threw it violently out to sea with a grunt of exertion. The splash came on the gentle waves. House felt strangely at peace. He breathed a sigh of relief. The pain was gone.


	16. Chapter 16

"Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you" the Chase's sang vigorously. They stood around House, who was bright red and hunched slightly over his chocolate cake. Nineteen candles added to the heat of his face. Rowan finished the song with a joking vocal flourish and they all laughed. House blew out his candles and shut his eyes in a silent wish.

"I wish I didn't have to go home" he whispered so quietly they had no chance of hearing him.

"Open your presents! Open mine first!" Robbie squeaked, shoving a badly wrapped blue package into House's hands.

"Okay okay" House said, grinning. He tore the Sellotape from the paper and his grin widened as he pulled out a framed photo of him and Robbie on the beach outside the house. Robbie was clutching a snorkel, both dressed in short wetsuits and snorkel goggles. They were laughing at the camera, House's arm hung protectively around the little boy. "Thanks so much, Robbie. I love it. I'll keep it where I can see it"

"Open this one" Rowan passed him a gold box with a neat silver bow. House unwrapped it and removed the small black box from its packaging. Puzzled, he opened the box and it flipped up with a satisfying click. House gasped. A large silver and black watch caught the light from the window. His face beamed back at him from the shiny surface of the watch, the hands ticking over his blue eyes. He took it gently from the velvet packaging and felt the soft black leather strap, running a long finger over the material and the glass of the face.

"Turn it over, Greg" Lilly said quietly. House obeyed and his eyes filled with tears as he read the inscription on the silver. 'To Greg, with eternal love'

"Thank you" he sniffed, overwhelmed with emotion. He had never had a real birthday before. "Thank you so much"

"We've loved having you"

"I've loved being here. Every second of it" House wiped his eyes and smiled at the blonde family sitting together around him. He felt totally at peace. Nothing would have made him happier. He stood up and hugged each of them, inhaling their scents. Rowan smelled of antiseptic and lavender, Lilly of cookies and salt from the ocean and Robbie of play-dough and chocolate. House breathed them in deeply, committing their smells into his memory. It was the perfect birthday. The only thing was, there was only three days left.


	17. Chapter 17

Although he'd had plenty of practice, saying goodbye was still hard. The last day of his internship had come.

"I'm going to miss you lodes" Robbie sniffed. He wouldn't let go of House's leg, preferring to cling on and walk with him. House dragged his suitcase behind him, sliding it smoothly on the polished floor of Melbourne airport.

"I'm going to miss you too, Mini Chase" House said, ruffling the boy's bright blonde hair.

"Are you coming back?"

"I don't know. Maybe"

"Promise you will?"

"Okay, I promise"

"Good" the boy breathed a sigh of relief

"Maybe you can come visit me too? I'm getting a flat for university, you could come and stay if your parents are okay with that" House looked up at Rowan for approval

"Sure" Rowan nodded kindly "We can send him over around Christmas. It would be nice for him to get some independent travel"

"Fab. Well then, Robbie, it looks like I'll see you again in a couple of months, okay?"

"Okay" Robbie sniffed again. House bent down to hug the boy, and Robbie threw his arms around him. They held on for a few moments, House pouring his love for the little boy into his hug. Then he straightened up and turned to Lilly. She smiled at him and pulled him into a tight hug. He felt her belly pressing into him and thought of the baby that would come within weeks of him leaving. He sighed and hugged her tight.

"I will miss you so much. You're always welcome" she whispered into his ear. "I love you, Greg, we all do. We're all rooting for you"

"Thank you, Lilly" House said, squeezing her gently before releasing her. He turned to Rowan. House felt tiny tears pricking the edges of his eyes. This man was more of a father to him than John House.

"You stay strong, Greg" Rowan said, reaching to shake House's hand. House ignored the hand and launched in for a hug. Rowan grasped him and they hugged tight. They had become student and mentor, father and son. House couldn't stop himself from crying, he would miss them so much. He pulled away from Rowan and wiped his eyes.

"Sorry"

"Greg, you can always come back, come home" Rowan said gently. House nodded. He had started to think of their house on the beach as his home. The speakers called his flight number and he pulled Robbie in for another hug.

"I'll miss you all. Thank you so much for everything" House said.

"We love you, Greg" Lilly said, kissing his head.

"Don't let him bully you" Rowan whispered, kissing him in the same spot Lilly had. Rowan passed House his guitar case.

"Bye bye Greg" Robbie sniffed. House lifted him up and hugged him close.

"I guess I'd better go now" he said softly, full of regret. The Chase's nodded, Lilly crying, Robbie trying not to and Rowan smiling sincerely. House turned and dragged his suitcase through the door and around the corner, waving as he went.


	18. Chapter 18

He slept through the long flight, only waking up once to watch a Disney film. His sleep was full of images of the beach, and the Chase's and the hospital. But it was marred by the knowledge that his father would be home. House woke suddenly after an image of his father pinning him to the wall made his heart skip a few beats.

The plane landed without incident, a normal boring long haul from Australia to New Jersey. House hung around for a while in the arrivals lounge, dreading going out and seeing his father. New Jersey felt cold and miserable compared to the beautiful heat of Melbourne. Eventually, he worked up the courage to leave the airport. He spotted Wilson and Cuddy immediately because they held up a massive purple banner 'Welcome Home House!'. He grinned and ran over to them.

"House!" Wilson cried as they went towards him. The three embraced manically, laughing and giggling their greetings.

"I missed you guys!" House said. Wilson took a step back to let Cuddy kiss House.

"You've grown" she accused "now I really can't reach!"

"Then I'll have to bend down" he said. They kissed again. Cuddy held him at arms length to look him over.

"You look really good, House" she said. Wilson nodded his agreement.

"I've never seen you look so... Happy"

"Where's my Mom?" House looked around.

"Just having a coffee. Your Dad's here too" Wilson muttered. "Should we go find them?"

"Not yet. Just give me a minute" House sat down on his squishy blue suitcase. Cuddy knelt in front of him.

"You're an adult now, House. He can't do anything"

"No. Now he doesn't have to bother to hide. Hitting an adult's not as bad as hitting a kid"

"We're here. Your Mom's here. My parents said you can go stay with them until you go to college" Wilson said, hopefully

"I have to go home"

"Okay" Wilson sighed

"Let's go find your Mom, huh?" Cuddy said, reaching out a hand to pull him up. House kissed her cheek, and she nestled into his shoulder as they walked together towards the small cafe. Wilson pulled House's suitcase behind him, and House lugged his heavy guitar case.

"Greg!" they heard the joyous cry before they saw Blythe House. House felt a rush of pleasure. He hadn't heard her voice for months. She trotted to him, and he opened his arms to embrace the short woman.

"I missed you, Mom"

"I missed you too" she said, struggling not to cry "you look fantastic"

"Cheers. Not so bad yourself" he teased. Blythe rapped him gently on the arm, smiling.

"Gregory" came the much less welcome tenor voice. House looked over his mother's head to see the tall man dressed in his military outfit.

"Father" he greeted stiffly. Wilson took a step closer to him, letting him know he was there.

"You've grown"

"Three inches. It's the sunlight. The food"

"Don't be rude, Gregory" John growled

"I wasn't, sir" House mocked "Mom, I'm going to stay at Wilson's until I leave for college, okay? I can't spend another night with him"

"But Greg-"

"You must have guessed by now, Mom?"

"Guessed what?" she said tentatively

"Knocking into walls, doors, floors? Did I ever seem clumsy around you?"

"No but-"

"So I got bruises whenever he's home"

"Greg, don't"

"He hit me, Mom. He beat me, every time he came home. Do you understand?"

"Why would you..." Blythe turned to her husband, who was bright red and glaring at House, "Why would you hurt my son?"

"He needed to learn some lessons. Learn respect"

"And you taught him by hitting him?"

"Only way, Blythe. It was the only way, he would never listen to us. He needed to feel the consequences of his actions"

"Well I felt them, _Dad."_

"How could you?" Blythe asked, her eyes filling with tears. House looked up, triumph in his eyes only to realise with shock that his mother was looking at him, not at John.

"What do you mean?"

"How could you lie to me like this? It's cruel, Greg. You should be ashamed of yourself"

"But Mom-"

"I think you're right. You should stay with the Wilson's" she said stiffly. House couldn't make eye contact with her.

"But Blythe-" Cuddy tried, but she turned away. Putting her arm protectively around John's waist. She was protecting an illusion.

"Mom, please, you gotta believe me"

"Go on. We'll see you soon, once you've recovered from your jet-lag" Blythe said, stopping the tears from falling by pretending not to be distraught.

"Father! You can't really expect me to give up?"

"I don't approve of liars, Gregory. Or thieves, or cowards"

"I'm none of those things! Just admit it, tell Mom what went on, and I will forgive you"

"I don't know what you're talking about"

"Dad!" House said, desperately as John and Blythe turned away and left the airport. House turned into Cuddy's shoulder and sobbed. Wilson patted him on the back, his friends uncomfortable with his sudden display of emotion.

"It'll be okay, House. It will be okay" Wilson said

"No it won't. Nothing will ever be okay for me, don't you understand that? Noting can ever be okay!" he shouted.


	19. Chapter 19

House lay on a blow up mattress on the floor of Wilson's bedroom. The sun was shining through the open window. House rubbed his head, pushed the sleep out of his eyes and stretched his arms forward. He was back in New Jersey, thousands of miles away from the happiness he had felt in Australia with Rowan, Lilly and Robbie. Less than a mile away from John House.

"Morning House!" Wilson grinned at him.

"Morning" House groaned, rolling over to glance at the pyjama clad boy.

"We're going out this afternoon, my family, Cuddy and I. We're taking you to the zoo. You've been back more than a week, and we haven't really done anything to celebrate yet" he said enthusiastically.

"Did you invite-"

"Your Mom? Yeah. But she called to cancel this morning. Sorry"

"I don't know why I thought she would believe me. She never has before"

"She doesn't want to believe it. She wants to think that you're all happy. She loves you too much for her to understand that it's not okay"

"But- but all those times I needed her, she never came. Even when I was screaming, when he broke bones, when he threw me down stairs, she never did anything" House whispered.

"It hurt less for her to deny it"

"No. It hurt her less. It never stopped hurting me"

"I know, House, I know" Wilson knelt down beside House's bed and hugged him. House hugged back.

"I wish I hadn't come back"

"I'm glad you did. Cuddy is too. We missed you so much"

"I missed you too"

The boys got up, House throwing on one of his old anti religious t-shirts from the back of his best friend's wardrobe. "I can't believe you kept these! Oh look, right next to the painkillers too, how thoughtful" House said, half mockingly. Wilson knew he meant what he said. He was happy to have his friend back. When they went outside, the first thing they did was walk in silence, without conferring, to House's house.

"Have you got your keys?" Wilson asked.

"How could I not? I had them looped onto my belt all this year"

"I would have taken care of it for you"

"She"

"Fine, she" Wilson grinned. House's motorbike had always been a woman "Only one you'd get between your legs, huh?"

"More than you'll ever get" House chuckled. He had missed the banter.

"House!" Cuddy cried as she saw the boys approach House's front drive.

"Heya darling" he said softly, pulling her into a kiss. It was soft and passionate and beautiful, and he had to try hard to separate from her. Cuddy pulled away, and the couple stared at each other for a moment. "You are so beautiful" House whispered.

"Come on. Let's go, love birds" Wilson said, yawning exaggeratedly "I want to go to the zoo!"

"Okay okay" House backhanded his friend's shoulder, unhooking his keys from his belt. "You fantastic machine" he said, running his fingers down the red painted metal of his beloved bike. He had fixed it up himself over a year when he was 15. It was a vintage Triumph, with high handlebars and a smooth paint job.

"What do you reckon to all three of us riding?" Wilson said as the idea struck. He and Cuddy were going to get a taxi, but it seemed stupid now Blythe wasn't coming.

"Dangerous. Let's do it" House said, a mischievous smile spreading over his stubbly face. He jumped on the bike, extending his hand to Cuddy. She hauled herself on behind House, and Wilson clambered onto the very back of the seat. "Comfy back there, Jimmy-boy?"

"Not at all"

"Awesome" House revved the engine and groaned "God I missed this" he kicked back the stand and swerved out of the drive. The ride was glorious, and House was laughing manically, taking dangerously fast corners and exalting in the wind running through his hair. After a much shorter ride than it should have been, they arrived at the zoo. The day passed quickly, and the three didn't stop grinning the whole time. They even dared the photo booth, creating some amusing shots of feeding each other ice-cream. House got quieter and more withdrawn the closer it got to closing time.

"You okay?" Wilson asked at ten to five, as they were leaving.

"I'm going to go home tonight" House said, resolutely.

"You don't have to"

"I know. But I want to talk to my father. Ask him some questions. I want to finish this whole thing"

"I'll be there if you need me. Just come straight over"

"Me too" piped up Cuddy. House smiled sadly at them, pulling Cuddy closer to him. The ride back was a lot less exciting than the ride there. House was conservative about his speed, only just exceeding the limit. He dropped Cuddy off first, kissing her for almost a full minute before Wilson began making gagging noises behind him. House stopped outside Wilson's house to let him off the bike.

"I meant what I said, House. I'll always be there for you. I promise"

"Cheers Wilson. This is something I've got to do"

"I know. Good luck" he smiled, handing House back his helmet. House swerved off the curb and accelerated towards his own house. He hadn't seen it in a year. A whole year. He sighed as he propped up his bike and put his helmet away. He was actually doing it, actually planning to talk to his father. Man to man. He knocked on the door. John answered, stinking of bourbon, eyes bloodshot and merciless. He was still an inch or so taller than House.

"Hey, father" House said quietly.

"Hello, Gregory" he replied in a hoarse voice.

"Can I come in?"

"What do you want?"

"I want to talk to you. To finish this"

"Come inside. If you must"

"Thanks" House said, stepping inside. The men sat down on the sofa, and House looked around the room, the scene of so many of his childhood punishments. He remembered being smashed against that wall, being chocked against the floor over there, having to stand in that corner on tiptoes for hours, staring at the small pencil mark at his eye height, destroying his vision. He felt slightly sick, being back after a year.

"I just wanted to say-" John said, breaking off.

"Go on" House encouraged.

"I was just doing what was necessary. There was no malice. You just needed to learn"

"I don't think that's all there was. Other kids need to learn too, and they don't have to suffer through-"

"You don't even know the meaning of suffering, Gregory! I've seen men die! I've had to kill and maim and stay quiet when they're shooting at me!"

"I know. But I was just a kid, father. I think we've been dodging deeper things here. Maybe... maybe you didn't love me properly. Because I'm not your son"

"How dare you" John growled

"Come on, we both know it's true! We're nothing alike even! I was conceived when you were half way across the world"

"It doesn't matter"

"It does. When I was in Australia, Rowan taught me a lot about what it means to be a father, to have a son. I saw the bond between him and Robbie. That won't go away. The kid's smart, he's funny, he's just like his dad. We don't have that. I always wanted you to be a Dad, and you never were" his eyes threatened to leak the tears building up in his voice.

"You insolent little-"

"No, don't. I'm trying to talk to you"

"I did my best, okay! I tried. I was always away, and you were difficult. You were annoying and bratty and selfish and rude and... and... and it had to be got rid of"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't a good son, a good kid" House hung his head.

"Well then I'm sorry too" John said quickly. House looked up. "I'm sorry that I went too far sometimes. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry for the times I messed up"

"That means a lot to me, father" House said sincerely.

"Good. Now then, I have something else to say. You owe me money. I gave you money to go to Australia with. Now you're back, I want my money"

"You can't be serious? Mom gave me that money. I don't have it anymore" House could see the sensible, emotional discussing they were having slipping away from under him.

"You owe me $1000"

"I don't have it. Even if I did, you didn't give me anything! It was from Mom's savings!"

"You little shit, Gregory House! I told you you would never amount to anything, and this is proof! You're so worthless, I can't even-" House's fist slammed into his father's gloating face, crushing the smile off it. "What the"

"Stop it! Just stop. I only wanted to talk to you, and you have to go and spoil it" House stood up, his skin crawling with the betrayal, wishing he hadn't sunk to the older man's level. John House let go of his nose and wiped the single streak of blood away. He was still bigger and stronger than his son. John grabbed House's neck and drove him into the wall, using his other hand to punch the side of his head. House punched him back in the stomach, putting up a fight against his father for the first time. John squeezed harder on House's neck, and pushed him up the wall so he was off his feet above John's head, coughing desperately for air. House kicked out and smacked John's shin. The older man let to suddenly, and House crashed onto the floor, spluttering and clutching his throat. John took the opportunity to kick his son violently in the stomach. He kicked again and again on House's chest and stomach, until the younger man vomited all over the floor. House felt dizzy, as through he would never get up again. The pain was numbing, each kick becoming less painful as he slipped into a troubled unconsciousness.


	20. Chapter 20

He woke and found himself on the front step of his house, in a small pool of his own blood. John had obviously kept going long after House had passed out, his last opportunity to make his mark, to teach his son a final lesson. You don't mess with John House.

House got up slowly, wincing as each of his injured muscles moved. His stomach and rib cage felt like they'd been kicked in. He screwed up his face with the hurt of putting weight on his fragile body. His nose was broken, the source of most of the blood on the floor. He patted himself down, looking for cuts that would leave that much blood. He found a raw gash on his forehead, which was still dripping down his numb face. He went through his options in his blurred mind. Hospital. Wilson. Park. He took a step off the porch, and immediately stumbled and fell down the remaining three steps. He couldn't stand up properly. Hospital then. How the hell was he supposed to get to the hospital? Wilson. House reached painfully for his cell in his jeans pocket, gasping at the new found agonies in his arm and back. House hit speed dial two, and it called Wilson.

"Wilson" House said, sounding hoarse and close to breaking down, "I need you" he put down the phone and rested his head against the cool ground. He passed out again, just as he heard Wilson running towards him.

Wilson sat beside his best friend in the hospital bed. He'd done this too many times. House had had surgery to fix his punctured lung from a broken rib, to stop the internal bleeding in his stomach and to set his arm which was fractured in four places and broken in two. Wilson felt ill when he thought of how much they'd needed to fix. House had a large raised, black line of stitches across his head, a splint on his gauze covered nose and a massive purple bruise on his cheek and jaw. The rest of his body was covered in casts, bandages and bruises. Wilson's jaw clenched. How had John done it? House had come to him, to talk, to forgive him, and he'd ended up fighting for his life in hospital. Mr. and Mrs. Wilson burst into the ICU room, taking in their son, and the boy they'd always considered a surrogate son.

"What the hell went on in that house?" Peter Wilson whispered, shock all over his face as he stepped towards the unconscious boy on the bed. He looked very small against the tubes and machines attached to him. Mary Wilson started to cry, and Wilson stood up to hug her.

"He'll be okay, Mom. You'll see. He's always okay" Wilson felt like crying too. House stirred.

"Jimmy?" he rasped through his swollen lips. His throat had been crushed, his windpipe almost collapsed. In some senses, he'd been lucky. In others...

"It's okay, House, I'm here"

"It hurts"

"I know, I know. You'll be okay" Wilson was crying now, holding his best friend's hand tightly.

"I was only trying to say sorry" House said, brokenly

"You had nothing to be sorry for. Nothing"

"I was bad, and he had to fix me. It was the right thing to do"

"Don't you ever, ever say that again, House! It's not true, and you are wrong"

"It hurts, Jimmy"

"I know. It's not your fault. This was never your fault" Wilson said quietly, bedding forward and kissing House on the unmarked part of his forehead as he slipped back into sleep.

"Bloody hell" Peter swore under his breath. "How did this happen?"

"He went home, to try to talk with his father. He told me he was going to finish it, to settle their argument. But he was going to say sorry"

"We should have intervened. We should have done something. A long time ago" Mary said.

"I'm going to call Cuddy" Wilson said, picking up his cell and heading out of the doors. Mary and Peter stood near the bed, his arm around her shoulders. They were both staring at the mass of bandages and casts that had been Greg House, wishing they had done something sooner.

"Hello?" Cuddy said down the phone.

"Hey Lisa"

"James, hi" the conversation ended awkwardly.

"It's House. I'm in hospital with him now. John beat him up real bad. He's had surgery. I can't believe I let him go on there alone. After seeing him with new bruises every day his father was home. After all the stuff he told us, after letting him stay at my house all the time. I'm such an idiot, Lisa. It's all my fault."

"Oh my God! I'll be there soon. Hold on James. It wasn't your fault. It was John House's. It was always his fault." she hung up and Wilson sat down on one of the plastic hospital seat, resting his forehead on his palms. He was an idiot. He'd let his best friend walk into danger, and hadn't done anything to help him. Ten minutes of self torture later, Cuddy trotted up the corridor to sit next to Wilson.

"Is he okay?"

"He's sleeping" they sat together in silence for a while. "Did you miss him?"

"I thought about him every day"

"Me too. I always thought we'd all stay together, it never really occurred to me that one of us would ever go away"

"He came back. It was good for him. You saw how much better he looked from last year. He looked happy"

"But now... He could die, Lise" Wilson furiously wiped away a tear. Cuddy put her arms around him. They cried together.

"He'll be okay, James"

"James, Lisa, come in here" Mary put her head around House's door "He's waking up" Wilson jumped to his feet and skidded into the room. House had opened his eyes. Cuddy followed close behind, and the friends went to either side of House's bed and clutched a hand each. House moaned, and Wilson let go of his hand, gabbling an apology as he realised he'd squeezed a bandaged area.

"Cuddy" House sighed through gritted teeth.

"I'm here, baby. I love you so much"

"Love you too"

"How are you?"

"I feel like I'm on fire. Did you call my Mom?"

"I did" said Mary

"Is she okay?"

"She's fine, dear"

"House, what happened?"

"I was just trying to make him see. I wanted to let him understand what he'd done. He said sorry. But then I wrecked it"

"What did you do?"

"I didn't have the money Mom had given me. He wanted it back. So we fought" House's eyes flickered shut. "Call Rowan. If he's available. I'd like to see him..." he drifted back to sleep, his breathing ragged and catching in his throat, hot tears streaming down his face.


	21. Chapter 21

Rowan Chase was holding his two day old daughter, Lisa, as though she was made of glass. Her blonde hair was already thick and wavy like her brother's. Lily was reading Robbie a bedtime story. The boy missed having the undivided attention of three adults. He really missed Greg. They all did. Rowan bit his lip slightly at the thought of his student. He'd been waiting for some kind of communication. He was worried. Suddenly his phone buzzed. Lisa stirred and Rowan rocked her gently, reaching for his cell. It was an unknown international number. He sighed. Probably a cold caller selling him insulation or something equally unnecessary. He answered it anyway, just in case.

"Dr. Rowan Chase speaking"

"Hi, it's James Wilson, House's friend"

"Hi Wilson. Is Greg okay" he said, sitting up straighter and clutching his phone closer to his ear.

"He asked me to call you. His dad attacked him, and he's in hospital"

"Oh God. I knew I shouldn't have sent him back"

"He had to have surgery, and he's slipping in and out of medical consciousness"

"Will they let him have visitors?"

"My parents, me and his girlfriend are all here"

"I shouldn't be doing this, what with the baby, but I'll get on the first flight out. It's for Greg"

"He'd really appreciate it, Dr. Chase" Wilson said. They said goodbye and Rowan clicked his phone shut. He pulled Lisa closer to his chest and stood up, cradling her in his arms. He went to the room Robbie and Greg had shared, and found Lily sitting in a rocking chair, Robbie curled up on her knee.

"Lil, Greg's been really badly hurt. His father sent him to hospital. I have to go out to New Jersey"

"But Rowan... no. You have to go. He loves you, darling. My sister will come and help. Go book a flight"

"Thank you, my angel" he said sincerely, putting Lisa in her crib as he turned out of the room.

"Take Robbie with you" she said, on the spur of the moment.

"Really?"

"He'll want to see Greg. Those kids were like brothers. I've never seen Robbie cry as hard as after he'd gone into the airport"

"Okay. I'll book us both on the next flight"


	22. Chapter 22

Two days later, and House was in a more constant state of wakefulness. His whole body ached, and whenever he moved he felt sharp stabs of pain. He felt empty. Throughout the time in hospital, neither of his parents had come to see him. He wondered if Blythe had even been told, everyone was so angry with her. Wilson sat be House's bed, occasionally remarking at the box set of soap opera's they had been making their way through. House hadn't really been watching. After he'd been fed his evening meal through a straw through his broken jaw and shattered cheek, he'd lent back and closed his eyes. Not five minutes after he had begun to doze off, he heard a familiar voice. His eyes flew open, and he felt his face contort into an attempt at a smile as the tall blond Auzzie flung open the door and entered, carrying a sleeping Robbie.

"Rowan!" House exclaimed as best he could through his damaged throat.

"Oh God. Your friend told me it was bad, but I never imagined..." he broke off, staring at the younger man's injuries. "Greg, I'm so sorry. I should never-"

"Thank you for coming" House interrupted, changing the subject quickly. He didn't want any more speculation as to who the blame should fall on. He knew it was his fault.

"It was no problem. I had to come. I couldn't have stayed away"

"How's Lily?"

"We had the baby. A couple of days ago. She's beautiful. She looks like Robbie"

"Wow. I wish I could see her"

"Your'e always welcome, Greg. Always. You're like a son to us"

"You'd be a better Dad" House whispered, trying desperately not to show the flood of emotion he was experiencing. Rowan leaned towards him and kissed him in the same sport Wilson had, and House sighed. "Will you stay? Until they let me out of here?"

"I'll stay as long as you want me"

"Thank you. Truly"

"Always"


	23. Chapter 23

He'd fallen asleep without sedatives for the first time since his surgery, and to Wilson, he finally looked peaceful. There were no worry lines across his bruised face as there had been before. He was at rest. As the clock on House's bedside flipped over to 17:23, he began to sweat. His heart rate and BP increased and he twisted in the covers. Wilson stood up, placing a hand on his best friend's shoulder. House opened his eyes blindly, still asleep, and started to shout.

"Don't hurt her! Please! I didn't mean to do it, just please, please don't hurt her!"

"It's okay House, no one's going to hurt anyone" Wilson said loudly, putting both hands on his shoulders to stop him writhing.

"Dad, stop! I didn't mean to, it was a mistake! Just do me, not her! Don't, please!" he begged, tears flooding down his face. A nurse came in, ready to sedate him, but Wilson shook his head.

"Keep calm, House" he said soothingly

"I'm sorry Sir, I didn't mean it" House shouted. Wilson realised suddenly, and with a rush of guilt, that he could discover a lot form this. He debated internally and decided it was the lesser of two evils.

"Gregory" he said in his most menacing imitation of John's growl. House fell totally silent, shaking with fear "Tell me what you did"

"I told them about our arrangement" he said more quietly, sounding defeated and running on autopilot.

"And what did I tell you I'd do if you did that?"

"You said you'd kill my friends"

"Which friends?" a pang of sharp dread hit Wilson square in the chest

"Jimmy and Lisa. You said you'd kill them if I told. I swear, I swear I didn't mean to! I didn't want them to know! Please don't hurt them" House was panting, his heart rate rising and making the monitors beep frantically.

"It's okay, House. It's me. It's Wilson, it's James. I'm okay. No one's going to hurt anyone" he said soothingly. House lurched and vomited over the side of the bed, tears streaming down his face.

"Wilson. I thought..."

"It's okay, you were just having a nightmare"

"I'm sorry" he mumbled

"How are you feeling?" Wilson skipped over the apology, knowing how much it grated with his friend.

"I'm fine"

"House, you're in hospital. You're not fine"

"I mean mentally. You don't need to worry about me"

"You don't need to worry about me either. You were yelling, at your Dad. While you slept. I heard you say he'd hurt us, Lisa and me. You don't need to protect us anymore. We're safe, you're safe. There's no need to worry" and he turned away to save House the embarrassment of having witnesses to his tears.

For House, the next few days were spent in agony. A physical therapist had tried to help him out of bed, and they'd ripped open his stitches. House had blacked out crying. When the PT's had come back, they apologised to him, noticing his tremor. Wilson was there every day. Rowan slept there. Cuddy came around all the time. Blythe was nowhere to be seen.

"Wilson, someone has told my Mom, right?"

"She isn't answering her cell, or your home number. To be honest, I didn't try that hard"

"Could you go and see her? Please?"

"I- okay, for you"

"Thank you, Wilson" House shut his eyes. He spent a lot of his time asleep. The doctors told Wilson it was good. It gave his brain injuries a chance to heal properly. Wilson also suspected that they sedated him regularly. He had very loud, disturbing nightmares. And he wasn't a bed of roses when he was awake either. When Wilson knocked on House's front door, he was greeted almost immediately by Blythe.

"Hello, James dear"

"Blythe" he said curtly, anger at the little woman bubbling over. She had left his best friend dying on her front step! She'd let her husband hurt her son for years. She'd even cleaned up the blood. "I'm here about House. He'd like to see you"

"Why doesn't he just come home?"

"I told you the other day, he's in hospital" Wilson switched slightly into worry mode. She had always denied her son's pain, but this was deeper. Had she forgotten their conversation?

"Oh no! What happened?" she seemed genuinely shocked. Wilson explained for what felt like the hundredth time.

"It was your husband, Blythe. He attacked my friend and left him to bleed on your front step"

"No way, not my John" she said, vehemently shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, but John's been hitting your son for 16 years. He's finally gone too far, and House is in hospital. He's had major surgery to try and repair the damage"

"No. You're lying! John would never hurt Greg. Greg loves his dad. We're happy here. We're good people, James"

"No Blythe. You're not good people" it hurt Wilson to say something so harsh to the soft woman, but he had to break her delusion. It was hurting his friend. Blythe was pale, holding tightly onto the door. "Greg came home last week, and he told me he was going to settle his argument with his dad. But he was going to apologise. John attacked him. He wants you to go and see him. He still loves you, Blythe. He'll always love you because he can't see past your denial. He can't blame you because you never saw anything"

"There was nothing to see" she denied feebly.

"Stop. Just stop. Come to the hospital, and you can talk to him. You can hear it from him" Wilson was trying hard not to show his anger. She had let House suffer for years. She'd ignored her son's pain. He gave her a lift to the hospital. The short journey was spent in stony silence. When they arrived, Wilson showed her House's room and left them to it.

"Greg?" she whispered. House opened his eyes. Tears streaming down her face, Blythe approached her son, lying in his bed. "Greg, is it true? Is it true, did your father do this?" she was almost pleading, reaching out to hold his hand. House couldn't look her in the eye. He wanted desperately to tell her everything, to feel the calm and peace that she had offered in his young childhood, the protection from the pain of grazed knees and falls from trees. But she was looking at him with such a deep rooted need for it to be a mistake that he couldn't do it.

"No Mom. I was... hit by a car, I dunno"

"Oh my baby. Let's get this sorted out, okay? Everything will be all right" she said comfortingly, relaxing visibly as her image of her family was restored. She bit her lip as she reached behind her son to fix his pillow. She hadn't forgotten her unease. She knew her husband was an angry man, especially once Greg had told him about her cheating. She had heard the muffled shouts and screams from her son's room, starting in India when he was three, and continuing for years. She knew, deep down, that her baby was lying. But the alternative was too painful to admit. Blythe turned around as Rowan walked into the room, accompanied by Robbie.

"Hello" Rowan said, surprised. He didn't know who she was

"This is my Mom, Blythe" House introduced quickly, fidgeting with a bandage on his chest. He was feeling better, as the days ticked by. He'd been in hospital almost two weeks. He was bored.

"Oh. Hi Blythe" Rowan said, almost growling. She had played a part in the abuse of her only child, even if only a small one.

"Greg hasn't mentioned you" she said

"No? I'm sure he was short of time" Rowan's voice was cold.

"Well... I'd better be off then. Lots to do" Blythe said awkwardly.

"Bye Mom" House whispered. She waved as she left. Robbie clambered onto the side of House's bed, being careful not to hurt him.

"Greg, you missed Lisa getting born! Mummy went to hospital, and the doctor gave me a sucker, and Daddy cried! It was so funny!"

"Wow that sounds great Robbie" House said kindly "have you done anything cool at school?"

"No way! School is boring! I wish I could be in fourth grade, they get to do proper science, not just plants"

"Huh. I used to think the same thing"

"For real?"

"Yeah"

"Wow. Daddy, I'm like Greg!"

"Yeah you are, little buddy. And you'll grow up to be strong and kind and good, just like he is" Rowan said quietly, looking at House. The younger man turned away. He didn't deserve the praise. But Robbie was looking so awestruck at him that he couldn't correct his father. He couldn't kill a fake dream, not of a kid he cared so much about. He just couldn't.

"Rowan, I…"

"Sleep, Greg. We'll talk in the morning. You must be tired. Go to bed. Robbie and I will be back"

"Okay" House said, moaning a little as he relaxed back onto the bed. He was exhausted. Almost as soon as the Chase's had gone, House was asleep amidst the softly beeping monitors.


	24. Chapter 24

Lisa Cuddy sat beside her boyfriend, holding his hand lightly as he breathed. She looked at his face, his scruff growing brown on his cheeks, the gentle cascade of his jaw, his endearingly crooked nose, the bright blue eyes she knew were there, hidden under his twitching lids. She looked past the huge, yellowing bruise that extended from below his left eye to tuck under his jaw. She ignored the raised scar across his forehead. She skipped over the tape holding his broken nose together. She just saw him. She allowed a solitary tear to glide down her face.  
"I love you Greg. I love you with all my heart" she whispered to his ear. "I will never, ever let this happen again. I promise you" she caressed his hand, kissed his cheek and stood to leave.  
"Lise?" he croaked, not opening his eyes  
"Hey, hey" she sat back down and took up his hand again. House opened his eyes groggily  
"Lise? I love you too" and the sedative overtook him again. And he slept. Lisa allowed herself a handful more tears for her fallen angel.  
Three weeks later, he was ready to leave the hospital. His physical therapy meant that he could use his back, he could eat solids and he could use his unbroken arm. He had impressive scars- one on his forehead that extended from his right hairline to his left eyebrow and one down his chest where they did surgery on his lungs and stomach. Wilson eased his friend down into the wheelchair. House winced as his back twisted slightly.  
"You okay?"  
"Yeah. Let's go" the boys wheeled down the corridors and to the front door. There, they met Cuddy, Wilson's parents and the Chases, and grinning.  
"Hi!" they all said, almost simultaneously. House smiled. He had people who cared. Wilson slid him into the back of his parent's car.  
"Wait" House said, stopping Wilson shutting the door of the seven seater. "Where am I going?"  
"Um... Well, you're staying with me" Wilson's brows furrowed  
"Wilson, I don't want to impose... I've sapped enough from your family"  
"No. You're coming home with me, and you're sleeping on my bedroom floor. No way you're getting the bed!" the boy's both smiled.  
"But I'll get in the way of your family" House objected weakly  
"It's okay. We already gave the spare room to Rowan and Robbie"  
"They're staying too?" House brightened  
"Yeah"  
"Okay, okay, I'll come"  
"Good" Wilson sighed and shut the door. He rolled his eyes at Cuddy "Good to see it hasn't effected his stubbornness!' the two laughed, and the Wilson's, the Chases and Cuddy got into the car.  
"So, House..." Peter Wilson said gently "Mary and I were talking to the cops today, about your father"  
"I don't want to press charges" House said immediately.  
"One of them said it amounted to GBH, if not attempted murder. He would go to jail. You'd never have to worry-"  
"I'm not pressing charges" House said defiantly  
"But why?" Wilson said, utterly confused  
"If I do, he wins, doesn't he?" House said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I cower behind the legs of others, just like he said"  
"Greg, you're one of the bravest people I know" Rowan said gently, putting a hand on his student's shoulder "And there's no need to let him get away with what he did. He should be in jail"  
"No... if I'd just been-"  
"Stop it!" Cuddy almost shouted "You are worth it, House. You need to send him to jail, let him get a taste of his own medicine"  
"I deserved-"  
"You deserve nothing less than anyone else here. If it'd been me, you would do this in a heartbeat. What makes your life worth less than mine?" she stared him down, and finally, House nodded. It wasn't a nod of agreement. It allowed them to press charges, it did not accept equal worth.


	25. Chapter 25

**AN. I'm considering turning this into a really long thing and continuing through House's uni years and maybe even further in this universe, including his developing relationship with the Chase's. Please let me know if you like the idea, and if you have any yourself that you would like to see happening. Thanks, Rosemarie**  
House, Cuddy and Wilson sat in a line on Wilson's bed, all three deep in thought. They thought about the cop downstairs, talking to Peter. If all went to plan, there would be a court case. House rubbed his face as he realised how hard it would be, to stand in front of a jury and tell them about his father. He would have to tell them everything. It would be humiliating. His friends would be disgusted when they heard it all. He buried his head in his hands, drawing his knees closer to his chest.  
"It'll be okay" Cuddy said softly, reassuring herself as much as House. He shook his head, and she patted his shoulder. "I promise, it will be okay"  
"Don't worry, House, we got your back" Wilson smiled as his friend raised his head.  
"Can you lot come down now, please?" Peter shouted up the stairs. Cuddy and Wilson got up, and Wilson turned to help House off the bed. He winced as his back twisted slightly and a shooting pain went up his spine. The three went slowly down the stairs, and House lowered himself onto the couch. The cop introduced himself  
"Hey, I'm Detective Mark Adams, you can call me Mark. I'm here to discuss the allegations you want to make against John House. You must be Greg"  
"Yes"  
"Hi. I need to ask you a few questions, okay?"  
"Yes" House said stiffly, his eyes fixed on Rowan, standing behind Mark's shoulder. The kind brown eyes gave him strength  
"Alrighty then" Mark said with an awkward attempt at cheerfulness. "First of all, I've heard from Mr Wilson what he thinks would be good charges. I want to hear from you what happened last month, which resulted in you going to hospital"  
"Okay. I came home from my internship in Australia. I spent a week here with the Wilson's, and then I decided I had to go home"  
"Why did you decide this?"  
"I wanted to... to see if he would forgive me for being a lousy kid. I also wanted to see if he was sorry"  
"For what?"  
"For the way he treated me"  
"What happened?"  
"We talked for a little while. We were having an actual conversation. And then I screwed it up. He wanted the money Mom gave me to go to Australia with back. He wanted me to hand it over, and I didn't have it. He started yelling at me, and I... I punched him. And he pushed me up against the wall by my neck, I kicked him, so he dropped me, and he started kicking me in the chest and stomach. Then I blacked out. I remember waking up on the front steps with blood all around me. I remember calling Wilson, and then waking up in the hospital" House recited it almost mechanically, as though he'd written it in his head and just read it out.  
"Okay. And you'd like to press charges against him for assault"  
"Y-Yes" House stammered  
"Okay. I've got what I need. You lot need a lawyer, and there'll be a hearing at some point before the trail, if it happens. Good luck, Greg" having finished the business side of his visit, Mark shook House's hand "I hope you win, kid. Sick bastard"  
"Thanks" House nodded. Mark left the room, and Mary went to see him out the front door.  
"Well done, Greg" Rowan said quietly "I know that wasn't easy"  
"Good job" Wilson echoed. House nodded and went quietly out of the back door. The group of people left in the sitting room looked at each other.  
"Do we follow him?" Mary asked tentatively  
"I don't think he should be alone with this" Wilson said  
"I'll go" Rowan volunteered, standing up. Wilson looked a little put out, but he let the older man follow his best friend out the back door.

"Hey Greg" Rowan said gently, sitting down on the bench next to House.  
"Hey"  
"You did good"  
"I just told him what happened. I didn't do anything"  
"That's not true. You exposed your father. You let someone else in. That took a huge amount of courage"  
"He always said it was a cowards way out, to tell"  
"Since when did you think it was a good idea to listen to him?" Rowan smiled  
"I-I'm scared, Rowan" House admitted, very quietly "Whenever he hurt me, he'd always say that if I told, he'd hurt someone I loved. Before we moved here, it was always Mom. Then it was Wilson, then him and Cuddy. When Wilson guessed, I was so worried, for months, but he never found out he knew. I told Cuddy. I told you. He still doesn't really know that anyone knows. But if this goes to court, everyone will know, and he'll know that I told. He might... oh God..." House put his head in his hands and tried to block out the images of his father hurting Cuddy or Wilson. Then a horrific thought occurred to him. He stood up sharply, ignoring the flashes of pain in his spine and ribs. "Robbie. If you testify, he'll know about Robbie. He'll know... And he'll hurt him"  
"Robbie is perfectly safe, Greg. Everyone is safe, I promise. And if anyone does get hurt, your father will just add to his sentence. Don't worry. It will be okay" Rowan stood up too, facing House.  
"You don't know that" House whispered, not looking at the older man. Rowan reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. House shuddered.  
"I know that you are strong. I know that you are brave. I know that you will always do your best to protect the people you love. And I know that this trial, this investigation, is the best way of doing that. So I know that you will win, so that you can protect us. I know a lot, Greg. Don't you ever doubt any of it." Rowan turned his student around and drew him into a soft hug, being careful not to hurt him. House rested his head on his mentor's shoulder and let the wonderful feeling of love wash over him. He was protected, just as he was protecting others. Everything could be okay.


	26. Chapter 26

**Hey. Please have in mind that I have no experience of a trial, and I do not live in the US, so I have no idea how a US trial works. Please just ignore any glaring errors you see, or let me know if there's anything important. Thanks**

**4 months later- trial week**

Rowan Chase turned to House and sighed. House's tie was badly done, skewed to one side.  
"Let me" he said, batting the younger man's hands away. He'd come back to Australia the day before, having spent a month or so back with the other half of his family. He straightened the tie, and House mumbled his thanks. Today was the day. The trial day. Everyone was testifying, Peter and James Wilson, Rowan and House himself. Rowan had a feint memory of being told that a few others would speak too.  
"I can't do it" House whispered  
"Course you can. You've practiced this a million times. Your lawyer taught you all about the defence. Besides, you won't have to say anything today, you're the last witness. You can do it, Greg, I swear" Rowan hugged him silently.  
"Come on guys, it's time" Wilson said, popping his head into the men's toilets where they had gone to hide out from the crowd for a while.  
"You'll be fine" Rowan smiled. House contorted his face into what he hoped classed as a smile, but looked more like someone was stabbing him in the stomach, and followed them out into the hall. It was a grand wooden building, the hallway leading into an impressive marble floored courthouse. House gulped. Rowan put his hand on his shoulder and they walked out together. They walked briskly to the door of the courtroom, and entered. It was packed. What seemed to House like hundreds of army men, press photographers, kids from school, his mother's book group, everyone.  
"I- I can't tell them all, Rowan, I can't!" House whispered frantically. Rowan squeezed his shoulder reassuringly but didn't speak. He felt a little nervous himself. But his nerves were nothing compared to the shaking, pale Peter Wilson's. He was up first. They all sat down in the front row, and Cuddy reached out for House's hand. She didn't have to testify, their lawyer wanted to keep the numbers down to just the people who could give fresh information, and since she and Wilson knew pretty much the same, Wilson was chosen to speak instead. The crowd went quiet suddenly as the judge came in. He was a large black man, a white beard matching his short white hair. He was around fifty five years old, his stomach round and his face beginning to wrinkle.  
"All rise' Judge George Martin residing" came the voice in the corner. With a great scraping of chairs, they all stood up, and sat down when the judge took his seat. John House sat next to a weasel looking lawyer in a blue suit.  
"Good morning everyone. Mr Gregory House vs General Jonathan House"  
"Your Honour" House' lawyer, Jake Paterson, began. We want to bring a case of assault to the court today. It is our aim for John House to be found guilty, and serve a long and uncomfortable sentence"  
"How do you plead?"  
"Not Guilty" John House growled. He glanced back at his son, the disgust clear on his face.  
"I would like to call my first witness, Peter Wilson, to the stand" Jake said, beckoning Peter up. Peter staggered over to the stand, swore the oath and sat down. "Sit closer to the microphone, Mr Wilson"  
"Sorry"  
"State your full name" the unidentifiable voice spoke again  
"Peter Daniel Wilson"  
"Good. What is your relationship to Gregory House?" Jake asked  
"He's my son's best friend"  
"How long have you known him?"  
"Almost five years, since he was fourteen and James was fifteen"  
"How well would you say you know him?"  
"He slept over at my house a lot, since he and James got to be friends"  
"Would you say that this was a normal amount of time to spend at your home?"  
"No, I would not"  
"Why did Gregory stay over so often?"  
"Objection, your Honour, leading the witness" the weasel like lawyer said from John's side of the room  
"Overruled, the witness will answer the question"  
"Thank you" Jake continued  
"He stayed over because his father wouldn't let him sleep at home"  
"At fourteen years old, he was regularly barred from his home?"  
"Yes"  
"Did Gregory ever say much about why he wasn't allowed home?"  
"No. He was a very private boy. But we had our suspicions"  
"Oh yes, and what were they?"  
"My wife Mary and I believed that Gregory was being maltreated by his father"  
"What did you base these suspicions on?"  
"He often had bruises, he was too thin, and he was regularly left to spend the night with us"  
"Thank you. Now, if we can move to the night in question, when Gregory was hospitalised. How did you find out that he was injured?"  
"Greg called James from his cell when he woke up outside his house, and James asked me to call 911"  
"You did so?"  
"Yes. As soon as I heard it was Greg, I called"  
"Why was that?"  
"We had taken him to hospital on several occasions. Once for a broken arm when he was fifteen, once when he 'fell' down the stairs and once when he passed out from hunger and dehydration when he was seventeen"  
"So his injuries often led to hospitalisation?"  
"Yes"  
"Back to that night, when you had called the ambulance, what did you do?"  
"I followed James to the House's home and helped him with Greg"  
"What condition was he in at the time?"  
"Bad. He was bleeding a lot, his arm was obviously broken badly, his chest looked as though it had been kicked in, and his torso was covered in bruises"  
"Could he have sustained those injuries over time?"  
"No. They were all fresh. Besides, he had been at my home the week before"  
"Why was that?"  
"He came back from spending a year in Australia, and his father didn't allow him to stay until he we to college. So he stayed with me"  
"When he went home, and the incident occurred, did you have any concerns about his safety?"  
"Yes. I was angry with my son for allowing him to go alone, and I was very worried that he would be hurt"  
"You are certain that it was John House that inflicted those injuries on Gregory?"  
"Yes, I am"  
"Thank you. Witness to the defence" Jake sat down, smiling gently at Peter. He had done well.  
"Peter Wilson" John's lawyer, Arnold Picks, simpered "I dare say you care about the prosecution very, very much"  
"I- well, yes... He's James's best friend"  
"So when this boy came to you with his story, you, without a doubt, believed him?"  
"Yes. There was nothing to question"  
"You admit that you allowed him to stay with you regularly?"  
"Yes"  
"The defence would like to offer this far simpler explanation, your Honour. Gregory House, tired of moving from place to place, rebelled against his father, an upstanding member of the community and defender of our country, by turning to drinking, drugs, easy sex and lying to his friends"  
"Objection! No evidence!" Jake roared. House's eyes widened  
"Defence would move to have all charges dropped!" Arnold said  
"Silence!" The judge banged his gavel on the table "Mr Picks, you will remain within the bounds of the evidence and not make unsubstantiated claims. Do you have any further questions?"  
"Yes your Honour"  
"Then make sure they are above belt" Judge Martin said, waving a dismissive hand.  
"To your knowledge, has Gregory House indulged in these types of behaviours?"  
"Well, yes, but-"  
"Do you believe that he has taken hallucinogenic drugs?"  
"I don't know-"  
"Then it is possible, is it not, that he could have imagined his father's 'cruelty'?"  
"No, he-"  
"Mr Wilson, on the night in question, did you see John House hit his son?"  
"I did not"  
"Did you see him inflict those injuries?"  
"I did not"  
"Did you, on any occasion, see John House being violent towards his boy?"  
"No, but-"  
"Thank you, Mr. Wilson. No further questions" Arnold sat down with a sly grin.  
"Alright," Judge Martin said "Witness dismissed"  
"I would like to call Cathleen Jenkins to the stand" Jake said. A petite, Asian woman stood from the row behind House. He gasped as he recognised her. Cathleen swore in and sat down in the witness box.  
"State your full name"  
"Cathleen Li Jenkins"  
"Okay, Mrs. Jenkins. What is your relationship to Gregory House?"  
"I taught him Literature in Japan, when he was twelve"  
"Objection, this witness has no bearing on the alleged assault! I move to dismiss the witness"  
"Overruled" Judge Martin said, not taking his eyes off Cathleen  
"Thank you, your Honour. Now, Mrs Jenkins. What did you think of Gregory?"  
"He was intensely intelligent. He arrived in my class unable to speak a word of Japanese. By the end of the third week, we were discussing politics and economics, all in perfect language. I was amazed"  
"Did you ever discuss Gregory's home life?"  
"He was very closed off, he didn't like to talk about himself. But after a while, he began to open up a little"  
"What did he tell you?"  
"There was one day when he fell asleep in my lesson. He looked as exhausted, and he was so far ahead of the others, that I allowed him to sleep. When the other pupils had gone, I woke him up. He looked awful. I asked him when he had last slept, and he told me that he had been awake for three days"  
"A twelve year old had been awake for three days?"  
"I was similarly astonished and concerned. I asked him why, and he told me that he had been doing drills all night for the last three nights"  
"Drills?"  
"Yes, pushups and the like. Physical exercise. He told me that his father wanted him to do it"  
"Why would a father ask that of his son?"  
"I don't know. He told me that he regularly stayed up all night doing similar tasks"  
"Objection, this is going nowhere"  
"Overruled, but hurry it up Mr Paterson"  
"Certainly, your Honour. Mrs Jenkins, what were your suspicions at that point?"  
"Weighing up what little I had, a bruise here and there, hidden under clothing, his constant exhaustion, how unhealthily thin he was, I suspected that his father was going beyond traditional norms of discipline, even by my country's standards"  
"Did you act on these suspicions?"  
"I did. And I am ashamed to say that I did more harm than good there. I went to Gregory's house to speak to his father. I spoke to him, but he sent me away. I didn't see Greg for a few days, and when he came back to school, he had obviously been punished for my intrusion"  
"How so?"  
"He walked with a limp, he couldn't hold a pen to write in his beautifully well developed Japanese, his face was covered in fading bruises and he seemed withdrawn and distant"  
"What did you do about this?"  
"I am ashamed that I did nothing. Two months later, Gregory and his family had moved country again, and I lost touch with him completely. I prayed for his safety every day, and I missed him greatly"  
"Thank you. Your witness" Jake said, sitting down with a small, encouraging smile to Cathleen. Arnold stood up, rubbing his hands together.  
"Mrs Jenkins, when was the last time you spoke to Gregory House?"  
"Just before he left Japan"  
"Seven years ago?"  
"Roughly"  
"How much do you know about the night we are here to discuss, when he was hospitalised?"  
"Only what I have been told"  
"Right" he said dismissively "When you taught him, and you suspected his father, you did not report your concerns?"  
"I did not"  
"He moved around a lot, yes?"  
"I believe so"  
"So he had many teachers, friends, many different groups of people who met him?"  
"Yes"  
"And yet no one, not even his doctors, reported suspicions of abuse?"  
"It seems not"  
"Do you think that is in itself suspicious?"  
"Objection!" Jake cried. House stared at Arnold in horror. It hadn't even crossed his mind that the very nature of his relationship with John House would be questioned. He had been certain it would all be about the one event.  
"Sustained. Do you have anything you's like to add, Mr Picks?"  
"No your Honour. I've got what I needed"  
"Can I say something?" Cathleen said tentatively. The judge smiled and nodded slightly  
"Make it quick"  
"Thank you. I just wanted to tell you about one incident with Gregory. I caught him stealing another child's lunch once. When I talked to him about it, after a while and a couple of hours of detention, he admitted that he stole the food because he was hungry. He had not been allowed to eat a full meal that week. He was a small kid, then, and I felt horrible for stopping him. So I gave him my lunch and I didn't tell his father. But Gregory told him anyway. When he came in the next morning, his left arm was broken. He had been denied medical treatment by his father, and I took him to the hospital. When we got there, despite his only being in the country for a few months, the doctors knew him. They treated him as though he was mentally subnormal, and as though he regularly injured himself. I believed, and I still do, that John House was abusing his son. I am so glad that this trial is going ahead, and I hope that he is brought to justice. Thank you for letting me speak, your Honour"  
"You're welcome. Please take your seat" Judge Martin said, looking scornfully at John House. "Right, court is adjourned until two o'clock for lunch. Please make sure you are back inside by five to. Thank you" in a collective release of tension, the court room quickly emptied. Soon, it was just House and his protectors in the large room. Their voices echoed.  
"How're you holding up?" Wilson elbowed his friend gently  
"I'm so sorry, House, I didn't know what to say to him!" Peter said desperately.  
"It's okay. I'm okay. Who's up after lunch?"  
"Rowan and your mother" Jake read from his notes  
"My mother is speaking? For which side?" House said, dreading the answer  
"John's. I'm sorry"


	27. Chapter 27

"Court is back in session" said the loud voice in the corner just as House, Cuddy, the Wilson's and Rowan sat back down. "All rise" Judge Martin came in and took his seat at the front. They sat down, all except Jake.

"Call your next witness, Mr Paterson"

"Thank you, your Honour. I would like to call Rowan Chase" Rowan got up and walled briskly to the stand. "State your name"

"Rowan Matthew Chase"

"What is your occupation?"

"I am a doctor, and I've written three books and four textbooks about my specialism rheumatology"

"What is your relationship to Gregory House?"

"He was on my internship program in Australia last year, and during that time I was in loco parentis, so he lived at my home"

"How would you describe him?"

"Greg is... Brave, strong, trustworthy, fiercely intelligent and... damaged"

"A great list of traits. Why do you say damaged?"

"The first time I met Greg, I was in New Jersey, buying a newspaper. I spotted a teenage boy get off a motorbike. He looked dreadful. I asked him if he was okay and introduced myself. He knew my name from reading my books. I offered him that internship for when he'd finished school. I say damaged because I did not see a normal boy when I looked at him. I saw someone who had been treated badly by the world"

"Have you since found out why he looked so bad that first time you met?"

"Yes. I received a phone call from his father a few months into the internship. He was very drunk and threatened to kill his son. I didn't feel that he was exaggerating, I was, in fact, very worried for Greg. I confronted him, and he told me, reluctantly, that he had been abused. He told me that, on the day we met, he had just been released from his bedroom after spending a week there with little water and no food. He was locked inside after he was beaten with his father's belt buckle and given a bath in ice. I tried to imagine doing that to a child. I almost vomited"

"That sounds horrific. Did he have any evidence?"

"I asked him to remove his shirt when he made a comment about his girlfriend. His back is covered in scars from belt buckles, possibly even a knife. It was painful to look at" House berated a sigh of relief. He hadn't said anything about the self inflicted cuts on his upper arms.

"Were you there on the night Gregory was hospitalised?"

"No, I was in Australia, my daughter had just been born, and I was taking time off work to look after my family"

"How did you find out?"

"James Wilson called me on Greg's request"

"And you came"

"I was on the plane that day with my son Robbie"

"Why did you bring your son?"

"Robbie loved Greg being around. He views him as an older brother. I felt I would be doing both boys a disservice if I didn't bring Robbie. Brothers look after each other"

"You felt it would be good for both of them?"

"Yes. Robbie would learn that taking care of someone you love should be second nature. And I hoped that Greg would understand that people love him and care for him. Care enough to fly half way across the world" Rowan was looking directly at House now

"When you arrived at the hospital, was John House present?"

"No"

"Did he come to see his son on any occasion in the three weeks he was in hospital?"

"No he did not"

"Did Blythe?"

"Yes, she did. Greg couldn't tell her the truth, and he told her he was in a car crash. She believed him"

"Why did she believe this?"

"Greg told me that he and his father kept the abuse a secret from his mother. They often lied to her, and she believed them"

"She was totally fooled by their lies?"

"I believe so"

"In your opinion, who attacked Gregory House?"

"I believe that it was his father, John House"

"Thank you. Your witness" Jake sat down and braced himself for the other lawyer's argument.

"Gregory House lied to his mother?" Arnold said immediately after standing

"Yes, to cover for his father's abuse"

"Has he ever lied to you?"

"Not that I am aware of"

"Is Blythe House aware of his lies?"

"It appears not"

"Then he could have lied to you just as easily? Easier, perhaps, as you were a stranger?"

"I suppose-"

"When a patient comes to you and gives you a list of symptoms, and none of them match up, do you come to the conclusion that they are lying?"

"Greg's story does match up-"

"Answer the question please"

"Yes but-"

"But when a teenage boy claims that his military decorated father beats and starves him, forces him to do drills at the expense of sleep, makes him take ice baths, and a host of other despicable things, you do not question his story?"

"Objection! This line of questioning is repetitive and not going anywhere!" Jake said loudly

"Overruled. Continue Mr Picks, but hurry it up"

"Yes your Honour. Will you answer the question, Dr Chase?"

"I didn't question Greg's story, there was no reason to-"

"Despite the fact that you know he 'lies' to his family?"

"I've seen abuse cases before, I know-"

"You believed, without question, a boy who you knew to be a liar, on a story that is not only irrational, but unfounded?"

"I believed Greg was telling the truth"

"You believed? Past tense?"

"No! I still believe him!"

"You described him as damaged. I believe he is. I believe that Gregory House has been hurt. But not through years of torture! John House travels a lot, and Gregory was lonely. So he made up this story, in order to win friends in James Wilson and Lisa Cuddy"

"No-"

"I believe whole heatedly that John House is not only innocent of this assault, but a victim of his son's damaged mind. I rest"

"But I-" Rowan tried to object.

"Call the next witness, Mr Picks" Judge Martin said, not looking at Rowan. The blonde man stood up and walked dejectedly back to his seat.

"I'm so, so sorry Greg. I tried" he whispered

"You don't believe him, do you?" House frowned, hoping desperately

"Of course not! He manipulated everything I said"

"I call Blythe House to the stand!" Arnold Picks said triumphantly. Blythe stood up from the other side of the court room and the small blonde woman went tentatively to the stand. She swore in and sat down, avoiding looking at her son. "State your name"

"Blythe Jasmine House"

"What is your occupation?" Picks asked smoothly, all venom gone from his voice, giving silent reassurance to his witness

"I'm a housewife"

"When did you marry John House?"

"24 years ago"

"How did you meet?"

"I was playing the piano at a pub on a Sunday, and a group of soldiers came in. Two of them decided it would be funny if a third was made to sing karaoke. John was restrained by his friends and forced up onto the stage. When he realised what they were doing, he started laughing and pretending to struggle. They dumped him in front of the mic and I played some light hearted song. He sang badly, and very endearingly. Later on in the evening, after a few drinks, we agreed to go on a date. Within a year we were married"

"A beautiful story, Mrs House"

"I think so too"

"At that first meeting, did you have any fears about your husband being a violent man?"

"No. No he was sweet and kind, and I found it hard to believe he was a soldier"

"At any point during your 24 year marriage, has John ever been violent towards you?"

"Not violent, no"

"Have you ever seen him be violent to your son?"

"Not excessively"

"What do you mean by excessively?"

"I've seen a couple of spankings when he was young, but nothing out of the ordinary"

"So this is the first you've heard of your son's 'abuse'?"

"Yes, it is"

"He has never said anything to you about it?"

"No"

"Have you ever suspected?"

"I have never thought that John would hurt my son"

"When you found out about Gregory's hospitalisation, what was your first thought as to the reason?"

"I was instantly worried that he had crashed his motorbike"

"It didn't occur to you that your husband, a man you have known 25 years, could have beaten your son badly enough to cause massive internal bleeding and multiple broken bones?"

"No, of course not! John would never, ever do something like that to Greg"

"What cause did your son give for his injuries?"

"He said he had been in a car crash"

"As you has suspected?"

"Yes"

"The only person, therefore, who was convinced of your husband being the cause, was James Wilson"

"Yes"

"Why was he so convinced that John House had caused your son's injuries?"

"I don't know"

"James Wilson was Gregory's best friend?"

"Yes"

"He was taken in by your son's story?"

"It seems so"

"Has Gregory ever given you reason to believe that he lies?"

"All children lie"

"But him in particular?"

"I love my son"

"You're not answering the question"

"Greg is very creative. He often made up stories. But he didn't present them as fact"

"When he was hurt, he sustained many head injuries. Is it possible that a story was misinterpreted as fact?"

"It's the only explanation I can think of. I don't want to believe that my son is lying. But I don't believe that John did this"

"Thank you Mrs. House. Your witness" Arnold sat down, a smug smile on his long face. John smirked.

"I think that's enough for today. Court is adjourned until nine o'clock to tomorrow morning"


	28. Chapter 28

House lay on the air bed in Wilson's room, staring at the ceiling. It seemed like he'd spent more nights on the floor in this room than he had in his own over the last few years. Wilson lay in his own bed beside him. It was dark in the room, but light from the large full moon made it in through the thin blue curtains.

"You awake?" Wilson whispered

"Yeah" House whispered back

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah"

"Your Mom, she doesn't mean to be such a moron" Wilson said at a close to normal volume. House snorted. "What?"

"She is a bit though"

"Yeah. Picks is good, huh?"

"Yeah he is. I worry-"

"No use in worrying. We can't lose! No way they'd let your dad off"

"Anyway... Who's left?"

"There's the end of your Mom's, then their witness, we don't know who that is, then me. Then you're last"

"Great. I wonder who they're bringing in?"

"Dunno. We got your teacher, maybe they'll get someone who can give a character reference?"

"Maybe" they lay in silence for a while. "I haven't asked you. What did you do whilst I was away?" House felt ludicrously selfish for not even thinking about it.

"Not much. Took a year out myself, worked for a while. Danny... He's been having problems. He was always a bit whacked out. They diagnosed him with... with schizophrenia a month or so after you left. He's been trying meds. Sometimes they work. Sometimes, he'll go missing for days at a time until his attacks are over. Mom and Dad kinda left it to me. They're too busy with work and worrying about other stuff"

"Wilson, I'm so sorry, I had no idea. I should've asked a long, long time ago"

"Don't sweat it, House. You've had much more important things to worry about" they slipped back into silence, and before long, House heard the easy breathing from above him. Wilson was asleep. House shut his eyes and counted to four thousand three hundred and seventy four before he slept too.

The morning came far too quickly for House. Wilson's vintage alarm clock trilled annoyingly in his ear, and he covered his head with his pillow.

"Come on House, time to get up" Wilson moaned, not making a move to follow his own instruction. House grunted a negative, and both boys lay for a few more minutes. Finally, Wilson got up "I'll go use the bathroom, you have another half hour sleep, okay?"

"You want half an hour in the bathroom?" House asked in a mockingly incredulous tone.

"Always" Wilson grinned. House slipped back into a doze. Twenty five minutes later, Wilson kicked the bottom of House's air bed and incited another grunt. House awkwardly pulled himself off the bed and onto the floor then got up using the windowsill.

"See you in ten" he said with his goofy smile. He was true to his word, and came back in with damp hair, his dark jeans and a t-shirt. "I'll put a shirt on top, don't worry your pretty little head about it"

The boys came down to breakfast last. Rowan was sitting on the couch reading the paper and eating a bowl of cornflakes, Mary was making pancakes, Peter staring at the television holding a spoon but with no cereal. House thought achingly of breakfasts at his house, where his Mom would make good food and as soon as she'd turned around, his father would sprinkle it with chilli or pepper and he'd have to eat it anyway.

"Morning Greg" Rowan called, turning to face him. "How're you holding up?"

"Pretty good thanks. Not long left now. Jake predicted a four day trial"

"Yeah, and that's really short for these things"

"I guess he thought it would be more cut and dry"

"Yeah, I guess so" Rowan sighed. He had spent most of the night rolling his testimony around in his head, trying to identify where he'd gone so wrong that it looked like he'd been calling Greg a liar. He had found several less than perfect turns of phrase. If John got away with it, he would never forgive himself. House and Wilson ate Mary's pancakes and at 8 o'clock they piled into the seven-seater. They arrived at the court house thirty minutes early and went to wait outside their room. House wore a sky blue shirt over his white t-shirt, a royal blue tie clutched in his hand. Wilson paced up and down the corridor. They might get to him today. His thick brown hair bounced with him every step, his cream shirt bringing out the worry in his brown eyes. House smiled slightly seeing his best friend nervous on his behalf. When they'd been there ten minutes, Cuddy showed up and kissed House. They sat together, holding hands. Rowan smiled, glad that his pseudo son had someone to care for him all the time. Jake stuck he head out of their room and beckoned them all inside. Blythe was being coached by Picks, and John had his hand at the small of her back, comforting her. It made House sick.

"Now, I'm going to be asking your Mom questions about your injuries through the years. Tell any ridiculous stories for explanations?" he asked hopefully. House obliged. At exactly nine o'clock, Judge Martin walked into the crowded room and everyone stood up. The regular motions were completed, and Jake was given permission to cross examine Blythe. The swore back in and sat down close to the mic.

"Good morning, Mrs House. First off, I was wondering if you could tell me about your son's sporting achievements?"

"Sure" she said radiantly. She was proud of him, no matter what happened "He was a grade ahead, as you know, and by the time he reached senior year he was captain of four sports teams, lacrosse, hockey, football and soccer, and he won several trophies for each, for rowing, swimming and for running sprint and long distance. He's amazing"

"Would you describe your son as clumsy?"

"Yes, he was always banging into doors and walls and things"

"And yet he was captain of four different high school sports teams? Including lacrosse, where accuracy is tantamount, and hockey, where the same applies?"

"He was good at sport"

"Did you ever see him be clumsy? Dropping or knocking into things?"

"Not really. But he was always getting hurt"

"But not, as far as you could see, from his own clumsiness?"

"Well, no, I guess not"

"Were the injuries concentrated to when your husband was home?"

"Yes, I suppose so"

"So your not clumsy, sporty son sustained multiple injuries that resulted in" he checked his notes "eighteen hospitalisations whilst his father was home and you never suspected that he was being mistreated?"

"No. No I didn't"

"Then I think that points far more towards you being ignorant than Gregory House being a liar"

"Objection!" Picks said almost lazily "intimidating the witness"

"Overruled. Continue, Mr Paterson"

"Okay, I'd like to talk about Gregory's fourth birthday, when the abuse is meant to have started. What happened on that day?"

"He had a lovely day. He had a dinosaur cake and we set up a paddling pool in the yard for him. We got him his first bike and John took him out to teach him to ride. Greg fell off a couple of times, like any kid would, and he broke the bike, and they came back home. It didn't matter, it was only a cheap little thing. We got him a new one the next week. John set up a little tent in the back for Greg to spend the night in. He was so eager to sleep in the tent. We had a barbecue and he went to sleep outdoors. We were happy" she stared fondly at her husband.

"Gregory's version runs a little differently. John took him out on the bike, hit him a few times, pushed him onto the floor, when he hit his head, and threw the bike at him. That's how the bike was broken and how he sustained the injuries you attributed to a young child's clumsiness. That night outside lead to 13 years of being banished from your home and forced to seek refuge at his friend's, sleep in your yard or even at the local park."

"I don't think-"

"Let's move on. Another incident, when he told you that he had fallen down the stairs. Your son broke both his arms, had concussion and was treated overnight in hospital. As far he remembers, he was pushed. You were out at your book club" the book club in question gasped audibly and tittered amongst themselves.

"No... No, he fell down. John didn't... He couldn't have"

"On the assault at the focus of this trial, Gregory told you, after James Wilson had dragged you to the hospital you hadn't been bothered to visit yourself, that he had been involved in a crash?"

"Yes"

"You accepted the story?"

"Yes"

"But Mrs House, you cleaned his blood off your front step!" he raised his voice slightly, moving closer to Blythe, who was trembling.

"I didn't know it was his"

"You didn't link the mess in your living room where your son had been kicked so hard in the stomach that he vomited, punched repeatedly, where there was blood on the walls, to your husband's fractured knuckle or to your son's life threatening injuries"

"I didn't think"

"No, it doesn't seem as though you did"

"I didn't know! I'm so sorry!" she cried, anguished

"Case rests, your Honour. I've got nothing left to say" he sat down, flashing a disgusted look at the sobbing woman being helped off the stand.

"Call the next witness, Mr Picks" Judge Martin said disdainfully. He disliked the short man with his greasy hair and not much cleaner demeanour.

"Certainly your Honour. I call Lieutenant General Liam Holding to the stand" House gasped. Wilson turned to him

"Who is he?" Wilson whispered

"He's one of my father's friends from the Marines. This isn't going to be good for us" Holding stood up, and the tall, military decorated, middle aged man walked in a near march to the stand. He swore in and sat down hard on the wooden chair.

"State your full name"

"William Jedediah Holding"

"What relationship do you have with John House?"

"I am one of his closest friends"

"How long have you known him?"

"Around thirty years"

"Since you were about fifteen then?"

"Fourteen. John was thirteen"

"How did you meet?"

"We were in the same class at school. We were in junior cadets together"

"You joined the Marines at the same time?"

"Yes, when I was nineteen and he was eighteen, the moment we finished school. We were in the same batch of recruits, and we ended up fighting along side each other for many years"

"Would you say you knew John House well?"

"Yes. We have shared a great deal. I even forced him into karaoke on occasion" he winked at Blythe who smiled through her quiet tears.

"You were featured in Blythe House's story?"

"Yes, and I was their best man. I am Gregory House's godfather"

"So you were close to the whole family?"

"Yes. I've known Gregory since he was born, we saw each other pretty regularly"

"How would you describe him, as a child?"

"He was bookish. Musical. Didn't go outside much. A bit of an odd kid. But clever, make no mistake. He was smart. But he was a disappointment to John. He was never going to be a Marine"

"Did this upset John House?"

"A bit, yeah. But he got over it"

"What makes you say that?"

"He let the kid go off to Australia on an academic thing, right? And he's going to med school. We didn't go to college"

"How would you describe the relationship between John and his son?"

"It was never great. John was disappointed, Gregory was everything he hated in children. He was rude and above himself. He didn't do any of the stuff we did as boys. But I don't believe for a second that John would do anything like what he is being accused of today"

"Why do you say that?"

"When you're in a tight knit group like we were fighting, you get to know people better than they know themselves. I never saw him being violent for the sake of it. As far as I can remember, he never stepped beyond what I would call normal in the high pressure situations of battle. He never got caught up in the moment. He killed people. But he didn't like it. I had to wake him up from a few nightmares after he'd killed. Once, he shot a child, point blank. Kid was trying to protect his father. The father had a bomb, and he was trying to blow us up. John shot the kid, trying to hit him in the leg so he'd just collapse, but he missed and got him in the stomach. Father forgot all about the bomb and tried to save his kid. John saved our lives. But at the cost of a child's life. He never forgave himself."

"Did you ever see John House hit his son?"

"Once or twice. A quick slap here or there, a good yelling. But never on this scale"

"Where do you think the boundary lies between discipline and abuse?"

"Pretty low. If you leave a mark that'll last more than an hour, and you do it more than once, that's abuse. But anything John did to his boy was well within the realms of discipline in my opinion"

"I agree. I know that John House agrees too. When you heard about this trial, what were your first thoughts?"

"I was astounded that Gregory would accuse my friend of something like this, especially after all he's been given over the years. I was also shocked that he'd been hurt badly"

"How do you suspect these injuries to have occurred?"

"He told his mother he was in a crash. I believed that to be the case"

"Over the years when you have known Gregory House, have you ever suspected that he was being abused?"

"No"

"Have you ever suspected that John House would hurt his son?"

"No I have not"

"Thank you. Your witness" Picks sat down and Jake got up to start his questions.

"First off, I want to get something straight. Your story of John's heroics with the kid, it's wrong"

"Are you accusing me of lying?"

"No. I'm accusing you of being mistaken. John House didn't miss that shot. He killed him deliberately. Didn't have my client to beat up to relieve the stress"

"For God's sake, objection!" cried Picks, trying not to smile

"Sustained. Don't insult the defendant or the witness, Mr Paterson" Judge Martin ruled

"Sorry your Honour. Won't happen again. Now then, John House won awards in the military for his aim, he has been good with a gun since you two were in junior cadets as young teens. John House aimed for that child's stomach, probably to distract the father. He still saved your life, but he outright killed a child"

"He didn't always hit the target! I've seen soldiers in high pressure situations miss entirely, despite being perfect shots on the range! It's not the same thing at all!"

"John House took a great risk with his son, then"

"What do you mean?"

"When my client was twelve, John House took him camping. He placed a tin can on his son's head, and ordered him to stay perfectly still. He shot the can off his head. That is a great risk to take if you know you sometimes miss. He could have been standing in this room years ago charged with murder!"

"I've never heard such rubbish!" Holding objected

"Really? Because you often boasted about your shooting games with John House. You went hunting together frequently. You went to the range at least once a month. Is it really out of the realms of your imagination that John House took these games home with him?"

"I-"

"Moving on, you said that Gregory was a disappointment to his father?"

"Yeah. He was" Holding flashed a look at House. House hung his head

"Did you ever hear John House say that to his son"

"Yeah, he said it a few times"

"Just whilst you were there? So he probably told Gregory that he was a disappointment regularly"

"I guess"

"You have a very low tolerance of abuse, Mr Holding, and that is commendable. But that is plainly verbal abuse"

"It's not the same thing to tell your kid they're a disappointment and beat 'em up so bad they end up in the OR!"

"I realise that. I'm just trying to set a background. A man able to mentally abuse his child may be capable of physically abusing him. You said you saw John House give Gregory a 'quick slap here or there'. So you saw a man be verbally abusive towards his son, you saw a child being slapped on multiple occasions, and yet you do not believe this man capable of abuse?"

"I- well, I um..."

"So you think he may have overstepped your boundary between discipline and abuse?"

"It is not an impossibility"

"Glad we established that. I'm done, your Honour. No further questions" Jake went to sit

"Court is adjourned until tomorrow morning at 9. It's too late for lunch or to take a break and start the next witness" everyone got up and House reached forward to congratulate his lawyer. He'd done even better that day than the days before. The little party left the court house and piled back into the seven seater, Cuddy included. They had ice-cream. House ate his chocolate cone with a smile.

**Long one today :)**

**Tomorrow in fiction world, it's Wilson and House himself up on the stand. If you have any ideas forsweat Wilson should say, drop them in a PM or a review! Cheers! Xx**


	29. Chapter 29

**Just a short breather whilst I write Wilson and House's testimonies! X**

House went home with Cuddy that evening. He knew Wilson wanted some time to practice his answers to the questions he knew about. He and Cuddy lay together on her single bed, him lying against the wall, his arm around her shoulders. They were both fully dressed, just enjoying being in each other's arms after so long apart.

"Whatever happens tomorrow, I love you" Cuddy stretched to whisper in his ear. He rolled over slightly so he was almost on top of her.

"I will never stop loving you, Lisa Cuddy" he whispered back. She reached up and unbuttoned his half undone shirt. He let her. Taking the hint, she pulled it up over his head, followed by his t-shirt, and he removed hers. He leant down and they kissed passionately. Both sets of breathing became laboured as they kissed harder and deeper, removing each other's clothes. House felt free, as though he'd been waiting to be back with her since he left.

Morning came too quickly for them. The sun rose weakly until it entered the room through the light blue curtains. Cuddy groaned and rolled in House's arms to face him.

"Morning sleepy head" she whispered

"Morning" he moaned, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. His thick hair stood up on one side, and Cuddy smiled. Ever since they were seventeen, she'd been amazed to be in a relationship with Greg House. Nothing had changed. She kissed him gently, inhaling his morning breath happily.

"You okay about today?" she whispered

"I... I'm worried, Lisa. I don't think I can..."

"Of course you can. You're Gregory House, leader of men"

"Leaders of men don't get stage fright"

"Oh, it's the speaking you're worried about?"

"Not principally, but it's there. I hate public speaking. I can feel everyone judging me. Throw in what I'm talking about, and it's making me... Nervous"

"You'll be okay, House. We're going to win this. He'll go to jail"

"I hope so. I really, really hope so" they got up, and Cuddy made breakfast for House and her father. Kent Cuddy was already downstairs, reading the paper. He smiled at his daughter and accepted her offer of toast. House sat down opposite him at the table. He knew Kent had never liked him, not since he'd caught them kissing when Lisa'd told him House was gay.

"I've been watching the trial on court TV. You have a good chance, I think"

"Thank you sir"

"You're up today, right?"

"Yup"

"Good luck"

"Thanks" they ate their toast in an awkward silence. House and Cuddy left quickly to walk to the Wilson's. The others were just getting into the car when they arrived, and thy hopped in. Cuddy sat beside House by the window, and watched the light cross his eyes and they changed colour from the intense deep blue to very bight to the colour you'd paint a baby's bedroom. He was very handsome, even as he frowned, doubtless running the trial through in his head. The car was mainly silent as everyone worried about it, and let the boys think about their own turns. It was more tense than it had been on any morning that week. When they finally arrived and tumbled out of the car, Rowan took House aside.

"Look Greg, I know you can do this"

"I dunno. I can't stand there and tell everyone! I can't face him. I'm a coward!" House clutched at his face, allowing himself to spill everything. "Picks is going to attack everything I say. What happens if they don't believe me? If everyone thinks I made it up?"

"No one who matters thinks that. Think about it, everyone you care about is in that car. We all believe you, we all believe in you"

"My mom doesn't"

"I'm not so sure anymore. She was very upset, Greg. I think she might have realised how much she missed"

"Let go inside, yeah?" House said, avoiding. They followed the others inside just as the doors to the courtroom opened. 9 o'clock was here. Out of time.


	30. Chapter 30

**It's Wilosn's turn! Hope I did okay with this, it's a pretty big one!**

"I would like to call James Wilson to the stand" Jake said firmly, confidently, with a small smile at Wilson. He swore in an sat down on the stand. He had groomed excellently, his thick brown hair wavy and flat on his head, his tie in a full Windsor and his shirt perfectly ironed. "State your full name"

"James Evan Wilson"

"What is your relationship with Gregory House?"

"I'm his best friend"

"How often do you see him?"

"Before he went to Australia, I saw him every day as school, most nights he'd come to dinner at mine, and I'd see him on weekends to play basket ball or just hang out. And when his dad was home, he usually stayed over at mine, sometimes for four or five nights in a row."

"Why was that?"

"He stayed a lot because his father had kicked him out, and sleeping at mine was better than in his front yard or at the park. But I think he did both of those more often than he stayed at mine. Mainly though, he slept at my house because he was afraid of what his father would do"

"Was his father threatening?"

"Yeah. He was terrifying. Even I thought so, and I didn't have to live with him"

"Was John House physically violent towards Gregory?"

"Yes" Wilson said emphatically

"Did you ever see him hit his son?"

"Once. I walked House home, and when his father let him in, he grabbed his shirt collar and dragged him through the door. I saw him punch him, and I saw House go down. Next morning at school he had a massive black eye. I backed him up when he told the teacher he'd been playing basketball"

"Were there other occasions when you believed John House was violent?"

"Almost every day he was home, House would come to school with injuries. He often had bruises on his face and arms. Sometimes he even wore makeup to hide them. He regularly limped a bit from hurting his ribs or legs"

"And you knew these injuries were caused by his father?"

"Yes. I'd seen John House hurt him, I believed it when House told me, and I saw some of the damage"

"What did you see exactly?"

"I frequently saw bruises, sometimes scars. I keep some of his clothes and a first aid kit in my closet, and once when he was changing, I caught sight of his back. I couldn't believe it. I've never seen anything so brutal in my life" Wilson looked directly at his friend, and they shared a silent conversation. House nodded, allowing Wilson to continue and gripped Cuddy's hand tighter.

"On the night when the major assault occurred, you were the first person Gregory called?"

"I was"

"What happened, James?"

"We went to the zoo, House, Cuddy and I. Blythe was meant to come, but she cancelled because House told her John had been violent and she hadn't believed him. When we came back, House told me that he wanted to finish things with his father. He dropped me off at my house, and went back to his. From what I learnt afterwards, he apologised to his father for being a 'bad son', and John demanded he give back the $1000 Blythe had given him to go to Australia with. House didn't have it, so John hit him. They fought, well, I reckon House got about three hits in, and John kicked House until he passed out. Then he must have put him on the front step. House woke up after a bit. I'd been holding my phone for an hour and a half, waiting for him to come, or to call. I was getting ready to go round to see if he was okay, when I got a call. He whispered 'I need help' and dropped the cell. I ran over and we got to the hospital about fifteen minutes after he called"

"What was his condition when you arrived?"

"He looked like hell. There were lodes of broken bones, and he was bleeding everywhere. There was a pool of blood by his head, from his nose and mouth as well as a head wound. He'd obviously vomited."

"You were obviously concerned. You took him strait to the hospital?"

"Yes"

"Are you certain that John House was the one who beat Gregory up thy day?"

"Yes, I am"

"Thank you. Your witness" Jake sat down. Wilson shot a weak smile at Picks.

"Good morning, Mr Wilson"

"Good morning"

"After Gregory dropped you off at your home, did you see him enter his own?"

"No, but-"

"Did you actually see him enter his home?"

"No. But I know that's where he went"

"You know? It seems a lot of people 'know' a lot about Gregory House. Someone's got to be wrong"

"I know that's where he went"

"Have you ever seen Gregory House drink?"

"Well yeah, we're teenagers"

"But does he drink excessively?"

"Occasionally, when we were younger"

"Have you ever known him to take drugs?"

"I- I... I guess"

"Marijuana?"

"Yes. Very occasionally"

"Anything stronger?"

"Maybe an ecstasy at a party we went to"

"What is his reputation regarding women?"

"He's known as a bit of a player. But he's been going out with Lisa Cuddy for more than two years"

"Has Gregory House ever been in a fight?"

"Yes. One or two at school. One in a club"

"At least three fights, to your knowledge?"

"Yes"

"I would like to put forward an alternative situation to the one proposed by the opposition. I think Gregory House dropped his friend here off at home. I think he drove back to the bar near his own home. I think he drank, a lot, because he was depressed that his mother did not believe his cock and bull story about his father. I think he got in a fight, possibly over a woman, and got injured. I think he went home, and collapsed by the door before having the chance to knock. When he woke up, he called James Wilson, because of his continuing confused state over his father"

"That doesn't even make sense!" Wilson shouted. House's eyes widened, he'd never really seen his friend shout. Let alone in a courtroom full of officials and the public. "His bike was by the door! How'd he get that back from a bar in that state? How'd he even walk home? He'd broken so many bones they could have folded him in half! He had a concussion, he had to have three surgeries to fix the brain injury and the internal bleeding! And even if you look past that, how'd John House hurt his hand? How'd their wall get blood on it?"

"There is no evidence to support the idea that my client assaulted his son, on this occasion or ever!" Picks almost shouted at the judge, anger sparking from him

"There's plenty!" Wilson shouted at the same volume "I know that John House is an evil son of a bitch, that he physically abused my best friend, that he beat him with his fists, his belt, sticks, and I think a whip even. He gave him ice baths, he locked him in a windowless room for days on end without food or water! I know these things because over the last five years I've known House, I've seen him suffer. I've seen a boy too young to vote or drive or buy alcohol get beaten and starved and sent away from his home. I know John House assaulted him that night. I know John House is guilty, and has always been guilty. I know this" Wilson was on the verge of tears, he'd stood up and he pointed his finger directly at John. John looked almost afraid. House had tears in his eyes too. People were standing up for him.

"At some point during your passionate speech there, Mr Wilson, you forgot to mention the character of Gregory House. We've discovered for, other witnesses that he's a liar, that he drinks, that he takes drugs. Lying to this extent to his friends and family about my innocent client is beyond the point of forgiveness-"

"Let me tell you something" Wilson said, still standing, his face red with anger and suppressed tears "When my best friend was dying in hospital, he had nightmares. During one of those, he cried out 'Just hurt me, not them, please Dad stop'. I am ashamed that I realised I could learn from his dream, and I pretended to be John House. House said that he had been protecting his friends. He'd been protecting Lisa Cuddy and I. John House had been threatening to hurt us if he did something wrong, like told. But House had kept silent. He'd allowed the abuse to continue because he believed that if he didn't, we would be hurt. I don't know about you, but that doesn't sound like the boy you described, Mr Picks"

"You're basing your character analysis on a dream he had after a concussion and a skull fracture? A more solid foundation I've never seen in court" he said, his voice dripping sarcasm and his face contorting into a wide grin

"I'm basing it on five years of friendship and observation"

"You can't just-"

"I know Gregory House. I know that John House is responsible for the assault, and around sixteen years of violent abuse and mental terrorisation towards his own son. I know that John House is guilty"

"No more questions" Picks said weakly. He sat down next to John. John snarled and whispered a few words in his ear. Picks went pale. Wilson stepped off the stand and went back to House. He wore a sheepish grin, and he pulled his hand through his thick hair.

"You were fantastic" House said, moving up to make a space for him. "You had him right under your thumb"

"Thank you, Greg" he said sincerely. House knew it wasn't just accepting the praise. He nodded and resisted the urge to hug his friend. That would have to wait until they'd finished the trail. Win or lose. House suddenly felt his throat go dry, his palms go wet and his feet go numb. It was his turn.


	31. Chapter 31

**House's turn! Hope you enjoy! Xx**

The court reconvened at 1.30 pm. House stood nervously as he was called to the stand. He said his name in a daze and stared blankly at his lawyer.

"Now then Gregory. Why are you accusing your father of assault today?"

"Because he beat me up that night, and I nearly died"

"Why have you never reported his alleged other maltreatments of you?"

"Because I was a kid. And he threatened my friends and family"

"What do you mean?"

"Dad said that if I ever told anyone, he would hurt them. He'd been using it since I was about five. He always said he would hurt my mother if I told. More recently, he's threatened my best friend James Wilson and my girlfriend of two years, Lisa Cuddy"

"What did he threaten?"

"He said he would kill my mother. He never said he'd kill Wilson and Cuddy, but he described in detail what he would do to them. It was different every time"

"I see. The threats against your mother, you said those had been going on since you were five years old?"

"Yeah. I didn't even know what he meant the first time he said it. I looked up murder on the computer. I had nightmares for years of him doing the things I found to my mother"

"That must have been incredibly distressing for you"

"Yeah"

"When you were young, what form did the abuse take?"

"It started off verbally. He'd yell mean things at me. He said I was a failure, that I made him miserable, that he wished I'd never been born. Stuff like that. If I got upset, he'd hit me round the head and say I was too sensitive. After a while, it got more physical. He'd whack me a few times with his belt, or punch me in the stomach or kick me. When I was nine, he gave me an ice bath. I nearly drowned because he held me under in the ice. Those were regular from then."

"What age would you say the physical abuse started and the verbal ended?"

"I reckon I was seven when he started hitting me regularly. The verbal stuff never stopped"

"Was John House overtly trying to control you?"

"Yeah. He had control over everything. I had to ask permission, beg sometimes, to use the bathroom, or to sleep or eat. He often wouldn't let me. Like Miss Peters said, I spent a lot of nights doing drills. He longest he made me stay awake for was four days. Then I just collapsed. He kicked me for a bit to try and get me up, but I couldn't move. He tied me to the tree outside and let me sleep. He'd lock me in my room lodes, sometimes for days at a time. Food was the worst. When he let me eat, which was usually once a day, at dinner, he'd put pepper or hot sauce all over it so it was barely edible and I'd have to eat that. When I was younger, he sometimes made me eat dog food."

"How about when you were a teenager? Surely most of these stopped when you got bigger?"

"Not really. He'd taunt me about not being strong enough to fight back. But that was usually after he'd beaten me up and dumped me in an ice bath"

"John House used ice against you regularly?"

"That's correct"

"Did he also use fire?"

"Yes, he did. I have cigarette burns on my arms and back where he used to use me as an ash tray, and he was always threatening to put my hand on the stove. But he used to burn my stiff more than he'd burn me. He burnt a lot of what was important to me. On my sixth birthday-" he couldn't continue. The memory still brought a chocking sadness to his throat.

The little boy stood by the fire, holding a box full of toys. He was crying, tears leaking from under his back eye, cascading down his face along the bruised jaw and dripping onto his bloodstained t-shirt.

"What have we got here? You got this one in Egypt, right? When I was stationed in Cairo?"

"Yessir"

"Give it to me" Greg took the giraffe toy and handed it regretfully to his father. The softness left his skin as it was snatched from him. John threw it into the fire, and it burnt red for a moment before engulfing the toy. Greg bit his lip, trying not to let more tears fall out. "Hey Greg, don't cry, it's okay" John said uncharacteristically kindly, putting a hand on the child's shoulder. He looked confused, hopeful. Maybe he'd got his Daddy back. "Look, take your favourite, the one that makes you feel comfortable and hug it or a bit. Maybe we'll go inside and get some hot coco? How does that sound?"

"Good" Greg whispered. Maybe it was over. Maybe he could relax. He put the box down on the ground, squatted beside it and rummaged through until he found a battered toy dog. It was floppy, with large ears and paws. Full of beans, it slid around a little in the child's hands. One eye was missing, the other black and dull after years of love. It was covered in small bald patches from hugging. Greg slept with it every night, tucked under his arm near his cheek. It smelt of his mother, and of hugs and kisses. Greg took it out of the box and hugged it tightly, taking a deep breath of the scent. John knelt down beside his son.

"That's a lovely doggie. What's its name?"

"Puppy" Greg said quietly. John smiled.

"What a lovely name. How long have you had Puppy, Greg?"

"Since before I can remember"

"Wow. May I see him?" John extended a hand, his smile widening. Greg clutched tighter onto Puppy, remembering the fate of his giraffe "I won't hurt him, I promise"

"Promise?"

"Promise. May I?" Greg gave the dog to his father, trusting him with he only thing that made him feel safe. He didn't want to lose his Daddy again. It was better to do as he was told. He could trust his Daddy. Daddy wouldn't hurt Puppy. "Oh Gregory, this thing is disgusting!" John said, turning from 'Daddy' to 'Father' the instant he had the dog.

"No Daddy, he's not!"

"Are you arguing with me?"

"No. No I'm not. Please-" he started to beg, reaching out towards the toy "please can I have Puppy back?"

"No. I'm not having something like this in my house" he said, and casually threw it down into the fire. Greg howled, reaching towards it, burning his hand trying to grab it

"Puppy!" he cried, tears flowing freely down his red face, sobs racking his small body. He saw his childhood crumple and twist in the flames and launched himself blindly towards his father, uttering a battle cry of deep loss and pain.

"Hey!" John grabbed his kicking son by the back of his t-shirt and pulled him off the ground. Greg flailed around, trying desperately to hit his father. John carried him, dangling by the shirt, into the house, making sure to bang him into doors and walls as he went. He threw him into the downstairs cupboard, hitting his head hard against the back wall and locked the door behind him. "I'll not have little girls crying and shit in my house. You stay in there until you learn to be a good boy" John yelled through the door. Greg curled up in as tight a ball as he could make, desperate sobs shaking his small body, until he could cry no more. Then he sat in the dark, thinking about what he had lost.

"Greg? Greg!" Jake was trying to get his attention. House snapped out of his memory, still feeling the aching sadness in his chest. "You were about to tell us about fire?"

"Yeah. Yeah, he used to burn my stuff. When I was a kid... he burnt any toy I became attached to. He's burnt posters, homework, my projects for school, prizes I won. And when I was sixteen, he went on a spree through my room and burt all my books. Almost 100 books on a bonfire in the garden. All the ones my mother read to me as a child, the ones I'd collected from all the places we'd been, gifts from teachers, from friends, from family, novels, and my collection of medical texts"

"John House burnt your books?" even Jake looked ill, and as House looked around the courtroom he was met with dozens of sickened faces. Picks shifted slightly away from his client, disgusted.

"Yes"

"No one burns books" Jake looked over at John, who had the eyes of the room fixed on him. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"That was the night he sent me away from the house for a week. I spent one night with the Cuddy's, one in the park and three at the Wilson's" Kent Cuddy looked awkward. "It wasn't like it hadn't happened before"

"What happened on the night your father allegedly assaulted you?"

"I dropped Wilson off at his house and went back to mine. I wanted to apologise for everything, to make it right. I wanted... I don't know what I expected to achieve by going back, but I thought I could fix something. My father apologised for what he'd done to me. But he still blamed me for it. He asked for the money Mom had given me, $1000. I didn't have it, of course. He hit me, and we fought for a moment, and then he won and started kicking me. I passed out after a while. He kept going, and then moved me outside I guess, because when I woke up I was on the front step. I debated going to the hospital or just moving away from the house, but when I tried I couldn't move. So I called Wilson. Almost as soon as he'd answered, I dropped the phone and passed out again. When I woke up, I was in hospital"

"Thank you. I'd like to take a break from questioning Gregory House, your Honour. I need to speak to his doctor"

"Call him up. Mr House, you can take a seat" House welcomed the breather and sat down, between Cuddy and Rowan this time. Rowan smiled sadly at him. It had been horrible for the people in the row to hear their friend's past cleanly, clinically laid out for them by House himself.

"You did good, Greg. We're all rooting for you" he whispered, shaking his hand warmly in his own soft, weather beaten one.

"Cheers Rowan"

"I call Dr Piers Cryer to the stand" Jake said. A tall, broad man stood up and walked gracefully to the witness box. Someone brought a backlit stand for X-Rays to be seen clearly from. "You were the doctor who treated Gregory House of the night in question, yes?"

"Yes I was"

"What were his injuries that night?"

"His worst injury was his broken rib that pierced his lung and the internal bleeding in his stomach. We had to do major surgery to fix them, and he was on a ventilator for a few days before he even woke up. He had multiple broken bones, his arm was fractured four times and broken twice on that one occasion. His nose was broken, his jaw dislocated and his cheek shattered. He had a large gash on his forehead deep enough for us to worry that it had damaged his skull. He'd fractured two other ribs, almost cracked his sternum, and his gut was in bad shape too"

"In your opinion, how were these injuries caused?"

"It's not possible that they were an accident. It was deliberate, done by a person aiming to injure badly but not kill"

"When you were examining Gregory House, did you notice any injuries from before the incident?"

"Yes. On the x-rays, we spotted more old breaks and fractures that I had ever personally seen on a human being. A lot of the fractures had not set correctly, and several of his ribs were crooked" Dr Cryer put up X-rays of House's chest, arms, legs and head. Several people gasped as they saw the obvious misalignments of bones. Houses fingers were covered in white lines, his skull sporting several small dents.

"When did these extensive injuries occur?"

"By my guess, they have accumulated over the last fifteen to seventeen years. Since the victim began to walk. You can see that several of the fingers and toes have been rudimentarily set. Possibly by doctors in undeveloped nations or by someone with almost no medical experience"

"Do you think it could be possible for John House to inflict these injuries on his son?"

"I think this is the most likely scenario. Given the indisputable evidence that the owner of this skeleton has been physically abused since before the age of three and given the nature of this trial, I believe that Gregory's father is responsible for these old injuries, and also for the recent attack"

"Thank you Dr Cryer. I would like to call Gregory House back to the stand" House got up, and Cryer sat back down at his seat. "I have a slightly unorthodox request, your Honour"

"What is it?" Judge Martin said

"I would like, if Gregory is okay with it, to ask him to remove his shirt"

"I don't see why-"

"I would like the jury to see the state of his torso, your Honour"

"Gregory, what do you think?"

"I- I'll do it if it helps" House said nervously, fiddling with the seam on his shoulder

"All right. As long as you are alright with it, go ahead" Martin said. House slowly unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off. He pulled his t-shirt over his head, and heard the courtroom gasp. His chest was covered with all sizes of white scars, several raised from the skin in ropes. A long, thin line extended from the top left of his ribcage, wrapped around his stomach and disappeared under his belt on his other hip. How chest was bumpy where his ribs had not been set correctly.

"Who set your ribs when they were broken or fractured?" Jake asked quietly.

"Occasionally he'd take me to a doctor, if we were in a country where it wouldn't be added to my medial records. Mostly, I set them myself. I was just a kid, I didn't know how to do it right" he defended himself. Cuddy started to cry. The thought that he felt inadequate for incorrectly setting his own broken bones was too much for her. She put her head and Wilson's shoulder and sobbed into his jacket. He put his arms around her and kept his eyes, watered as they were, locked onto his best friend.

"How did you get that long scar?" Jake inquired

"This one?" House indicated the line wrapping around his body. Jake nodded "That was the one time he whipped me. He had a long one and he hit me with it when I was about eight. It wrapped around and cut the skin really deep. It leaked blood for days. It hurt more than anything he ever did to me, that one. He never did it again. I forgot to put the trash out" the room became very loud suddenly, everyone talking.

"Order!" Martin banged. They went quiet again

"I'm sorry?" Jake said

"That's why he did it. I forgot to put the trash out" there was a stunned silence, worse than the talking.

"Are you saying... John House hit his eight year old son with a whip, leaving a deep and permanent scar, because he forgot to but the trash out?"

"Yes"

"You know what, I have no further questions. Not even you can defend this scum, Picks" he turned to the other lawyer, who looked as disgusted as anyone else, but hid it quickly. "Your witness"

"Court will take a recess. There's no time to finish this today. Back at 9.30 tomorrow, for the last day of the trial" Judge Martin said. The room became instantly noisy again. House pulled on his t-shirt and went to Cuddy. She threw herself into his arms and sobbed loudly into his shoulder. He rested his chin on her head and shut his eyes.


	32. Chapter 32

**Hi sorry for the long wait! The formatting hasn't worked on this chapter, so sorry for that too. I've tried to make the flashbacks obvious with unbearably cliched intros and a High School banner. Forgive me?! Verdict in the next chapter keepreading and reviewing!**

House paced up and down in front of the courtroom door. He had riden his bike up an hour early so he could get some peace. The others had all been so loud and ready to talk to him. He just wasn't in the mood. It was eight o'clock, and the building was empty. His footsteps resounded off the white marble floor, his image danced in the semi reflective walls. He'd told. The one simple fact went round and round his head. He felt his tie tighten around his throat, so he ripped it off and unbuttoned his the top of his shirt and fingered his aborigine necklace. All through his life, almost every day, he'd been told not to tell. Threats of what would happen if he did were horrible, the death of his mother, the torture of his friends, the pain that would follow. He shuddered and walked a little faster, trying to escape the thoughts. And there was so much more at stake now, now that he'd settled down. Now that there were people who loved him. There was Wilson, Cuddy, Rowan, Robbie. Too many people. What if the jury let John go? His friends would all be in danger. Robbie was safe in Australia with Lily and Lisa. Rowan would never let anything bad happen to his son. Or to himself. Wilson was... incapable of taking care of himself. And Cuddy. She was so delicate. Sure, she was fiery and brave and smart, but she couldn't protect herself. So it was like before. There was Cuddy and Wilson. And he'd put them in danger. He had knowingly and deliberately done all the things he'd been told not to do, and he'd risked their lives. He was an idiot. He should never have spoken to that cop, all those weeks ago. He should never have had friends here. He should have kept it the same as at all the other schools he'd been to. He should have kept to himself. But he couldn't keep the smile off his face thinking about the first day at his school in New Jersey. When he'd met his best friend. It was one of the best days of his life.  
High School High School High School  
The disheveled teenage boy got off his motorbike into the empty car park. He had taken a long route so he avoided the crowds of adolescent girls hugging and giggling and screaming at each other after a whole two months apart. Tossers. Greg pulled his leather jacket tighter around his thin shoulders, took off his helmet and locked up his bike. He shoved a blue baseball cap onto his head, attached the keys to his belt loop and walked, hands deep in his pockets, to the office.  
"Good morning, hon, you must be Greg" the secretory said jovially as he came in. She was a large black woman with short, dark dreadlocks. She smiled widely at him.  
"People call me House"  
"Okay sweetie. You're a bit late, so you missed induction, but you can sign up to classes here. What do you want to take?" she slid a booklet across her desk to him. Greg sat down one one of the overstuffed chairs and leafed through it. He knew he'd be taking all AP classes. Chemistry, check. Biology, check. English, check. Algebra, check. World history, check. Physics, check. Statistics, check. Geometry, check. Sports, check. Take something easy for fun... media and communications. All done. He'd get about three study halls a week, enough to avoid talking to people and make sure he had plenty of work at home so he didn't have to spend any time talking to his parents. He handed back the form, his options checked. The woman looked down his list, frowning slightly.  
"You sure, hon? That's an awful lot of hard classes"  
"I'm a year ahead, I'm pretty sure I'll be okay" he said shortly. It was the same every year. Someone would always question his motives for taking so much, especially AP classes.  
"Okay" she said, raising her tone at the end and elongating the word "Let me sort out your schedule"  
"Thanks" Greg sat back down. She printed off his sheet, he took it, swept his eyes down and made his way to AP Chemistry without another word.  
"Bye hon" she called after him. Greg sat down at the back of his class silently and opened his books. The teacher didn't notice him come in, but the students looked up at the younger boy. Greg House was small for his age, thin and gangly, his dark blonde hair scruffy and unkempt, his clothes in various states of disrepair. He looked around the class briefly and headed for the back row. It was unoccupied. He slung his back down on the seat next to him and extracted a notepad and a pen. He listened for a few minutes, realised he'd done it all before on his own and stared out of the window. After fifteen minutes, someone knocked on the door.  
"Come in" the teacher called, beckoning the tall brunette boy into the room.  
"Hi sir, I was just wondering if you had" he checked a scrap of paper in his hand "Gregory House in your class?"  
"I don't think so" he said, scanning the class for unfamiliar faces. Greg pulled his cap firmer onto his head and stood up.  
"Here" he said wearily. He was going to be shipped off to another assessor to see if he was smart enough to take his classes. The other boy smiled nervously at him. Greg didn't return it, rolling his eyes slightly. They walked in silence back to the office, and the other boy left with another smile. Greg spent the next hour and a half persuading the councillor that he could do his classes, even going as far as reciting the first chapter of Darwin's Origin and telling her the seventy eight symptoms of Lyme Disease. Finally, she admitted defeat, just as the bell rang for lunch. Greg walked slowly to the cafeteria, his hands lodged in his pockets again, his blue cap over his eyes and his heather jacket acting as a very effective wall against the other students. He didn't have any money. It wasn't like he was ever given any. His dad told his mom he gave him some, but he never did. The last school, he hadn't been able to find anyone who'd buy him lunch. He was almost never given an edible dinner. So he resorted to stealing another kid's sandwiches. That was why he was here. He'd been expelled. The beating had been spectacular, he still winced when he coughed from his ribs. He looked up as he went into the cafeteria. Almost immediately, he spotted the brown haired boy staring at him. The other boy was a year or so older than him, wearing slacks and a beige shirt, his tie done up loosely and his hair perfectly done. He had deep brown eyes, and kind features. Greg took a chance and went up to him.  
"Wanna buy me a sandwich?"  
"Don't you have money?"  
"Forgot" Greg shrugged.  
"Okay. What do you want?'  
"BLT" Greg said, astonished he'd given in that easily. The other boy got up and returned with a BLT.  
"There you go. My name's James Wilson, I know you're Gregory House, right?"  
"House. Greg House, but no one calls me Greg"  
"Okay... So just House?"  
"Yeah"  
"Why is that?"  
"Went to an English boarding school for a couple of years when I was ten. They all call each other by their last names. Especially the rugby players"  
"Cool. I've never been to England"  
"It's pretty awesome. I've been lodes of places. Dad's a marine" he hated the feeling of pride that washed over him when he said that. He'd been conditioned into it. He didn't feel pride towards his father. Didn't feel anything but dislike.  
"Wow. I wish I could travel! My Dad's a solicitor, and he just stays at home. 9-5, you know?"  
"Yeah. So, James Wilson. What do you lot do for fun around here?"  
High School High School High School  
That had been the start of a long friendship. He didn't regret it, not all those good moments with him and Cuddy. Almost by accident, he slipped into that memory too.  
High School High School High School  
Greg woke up earlier than usual that day. He was immediately alert, on guard for the slightest creak of floorboards. His eyes still shut, he felt the door open. He took a deep breath, tensed his body and stayed totally still. He felt a shadow cross him and his heart leapt. Suddenly, after a few seconds of silence, he felt the fist blow deep in his stomach.  
"Get up" came the cold voice from above him. Before Greg could move to obey, a second blow smashed into the side of his head. Caught off guard, he slumped back onto the bed. John House took this as defiance. He grabbed a handful of his son's hair and yanked him sideways out of the bed and onto the floor. Greg felt the air leave his lungs, and struggled to catch another breath. John kicked him hard in the side and growled "Get up, you insolent boy! Do I need to get my belt?"  
"No sir" Greg wheezed, struggling up to stand, leaning slightly on the dresser. He stood face to face with his father, not looking him in the eye, his head bent slightly.  
"Get ready for school. You'll have to walk today, it rained in the night" John said, almost as though he cared about his son's safety riding his bike. But Greg dismissed the thought. If he cared, he would drive him the 8 miles, not make him walk in the freezing cold. John left the room and Greg pulled off his bottoms and headed, towel wrapped round his waist, to the shower. He washed away the pain with the warm drizzle of water, washing good smelling shampoo through his hair. He stepped out of the shower and examined his face. There was a small bruise fading brown along his jaw, but stubble was growing in to cover it. His blue eyes stared intently at his reflection, he shook his head, dissatisfied, and turned away, making his way back to his bedroom. Once there, he roughly towel dried his hair so it stood up slightly, and pulled on his clothes. He rolled the ends of his dark jeans so the wouldn't drag in puddles, and layered his T-shirt and two jumpers so he wouldn't be too cold. A woolly sweatshirt only Wilson would wear in public went over his T-shirt, a grey hoodie on top of that. He wrenched on two pairs of socks and went downstairs. John was, as always, waiting at the door. Greg approached him and stood a few feet away, arms by his sides and head bowed slightly. John inspected him, shoved a comb roughly through his hair and deemed him passable.  
"If I hear you're late, or that you failed to correctly organise yourself, you'll get a bath tonight" John threatened quietly. Greg shuddered, and left the house. He felt a pang of hunger in his stomach, and a sticky dryness at the back of his throat. At least this year he was getting lunch. It took a long time to all to school in the freezing cold. Three blocks away from the imposing building, he heard the toot of a horn and the grating of gravel as a car pulled up behind him. Greg turned around sharply, his hands remaining deep in his pockets, in fists to preserve warmth. A girl stuck her ear muffed head out of the window of a sleek red car. She was radiant, her dark hair curling attractively down her shoulders, her face blushed red by the wind.  
"Hey, it's Greg, right? Do you want a lift the rest of the way?" she asked. Greg nodded after a moments hesitation and climbed into the passenger seat.  
"Hey. It's House, by the way. I don't know your name, I'm sorry"  
"Oh, sorry. House then. I'm Lisa, Lisa Cuddy"  
"Cool. Thanks for the lift Cuddy"  
"It's just... Never mind" she faltered when he stared her down with his eyes as ice blue as the ground. They went in silence for the remainder of the short journey, Greg warming his hands in what he hoped was a surreptitious way on her heating. "We take math together, right?"  
"Yeah I guess so. I think I've seen you around"  
"You're friends with James Wilson, yeah?"  
"Yes I am. Haven't been here long though. Don't really know yet"  
"I knew him from elementary school we used to be friends too"  
"Maybe we could all hang out sometime?" he said nervously, hiding it well  
"That sounds like fun, thank you. Maybe see you at lunchtime?"  
"Okay. See you" the car pulled into a space and they got out. They walked together up to the school, and Greg felt warmer than he had felt for a very, very long time.  
High School High School High School

Before House knew it, the others had arrived, and court was about to start again, for the last time. Today, they would get the verdict. He put his tie back on, took a deep breath and entered the room, Cuddy holding his hand and Wilson standing beside him. Just like it was meant to be.


	33. Chapter 33-The last word

House could feel his hands shaking as he took his place on the witness stand. He stared out at the large crowd, only a small number he knew, and his eyes rested on his friends. Rowan looked strong, his back straight, his lion yellow hair combed but still wavy like Robbie's. Wilson smiled at him, radiating good vibes, as though they would win by sheer force of will. Cuddy looked like she wanted to kiss him. House looked to the other side of the courtroom. Three men in military uniforms sat stiffly in the third row. He recognised them from his father's parties. He had never been allowed downstairs for them. He'd be locked in his bedroom, usually after a painful reminder to be quiet and not to bother them. And especially not to tell. House shivered. Judge Martin banged his gavel on the table and the court fell silent, the tension palpable in the air. Picks stood up and approached House. He fiddled with his tie, slightly nervous. He knew he had no ground to stand on. His hand was bandaged, mostly hidden under his sleeve, and as he got close to the stand, House saw the shadow of a bruise on his jaw, the slight swelling around his eye. The younger man gazed at the older, concern written over his face, questioning. Picks blinked, unused to being under scrutiny.

"Gregory, I have some questions about your relationship with your mother"

"Okay..."

"What is your first memory of Blythe?" House thought for a moment

"We were in church when I was about three. She was playing the organ. I remember standing next to her, holding on to her skirt, watching her hands dance on the keys. I remember the thrill that came over me when I heard the music. I'd never seen anyone play properly before. We didn't have a piano, he banned music, so it was the first time I'd heard live music. That is one of my favourite memories"

"And what is your first memory of your father?"

"Actually, my very first memory of him is a positive one. I remember him taking me to the base on his shoulders. We'd just moved to Egypt, so I must have been younger than two. He showed me off to the other soldiers. I said my alphabet, recited the states and their capitals and said my times tables up to ten. I remember him smiling at me as though he was proud. I think he was proud" House looked at his father, who was lost in the same memory. A small smile glittered on the corners of his mouth. House brought his eyes back to Picks.

"Two good memories then. I want you to describe to me the first time you remember your father hitting you in anger, or what you consider to be out of proportion"

"I was about seven, I guess. I got a B on my report card. I was so scared walking home that day. He'd been saying horrible things for a couple of years by that point. I was worried he'd tell Mom I'd failed, that she'd be disappointed in me. Mom was out. I showed him the card and he sorta snapped. He didn't look like my Daddy anymore. He grabbed me by the throat and pushed me up the stairs to my room. He sat on my bed and made me pull down my pants. I didn't want to, so I started crying. He... He took off his belt and dragged my clothes off, pulled me over his lap and smacked me with the belt. I hurt so, so bad" he sounded like a young child "I cried properly then. He hit me a few more times, then shoved me off his knee and left. I stayed lying on my bedroom floor for hours, crying. I couldn't understand what I'd done, not really. I'd tried hard in the class. It was art, even. He would have hated it if I'd got an A in art"

"Do you really, really expect the court to believe that you have been severely physically abused for years and years, yet no one has ever noticed. Not your teachers, your peers, your mother, no one at all?"

"I'm telling the truth"

"Even if we stretch that far, getting strapped is not uncommon. My father did it to me, I'm sure your grandfather did it your father. It's a huge leap from that to regular abuse, and a larger leap from that to beating you almost to death and abandoning you on the front step. No father would ever do that. It's just not conceivable"

"So it can't be true because it's just too bad?"

"Exactly. No child could endure that anyway, you'd be a wreak!" Picks looked as though he was getting splinters in his fingers digging the bottom of the barrel.

"I'm not exactly well adjusted!"

"You'd be in a mental institution, you'd be depressed, you'd have a doctor for your mental health. You don't seriously expect us to believe not only that you have been through this very real to others ordeal, but you have come out the other side with no lasting damage?" Picks spread his arms wide, questioning. His sleeve rode up and made his bandaged hand visible. He looked almost hysterical.

"No. Actually, I have seen a doctor about it. We talked for a long time. He really helped me" House looked directly at Rowan. The older man smiled slightly and nodded.

"You mentioned earlier being coerced into doing things you didn't want to do. What form did this coercion take?"

"Mainly threatening my Mom, or later Wilson and Cuddy. He'd demonstrate on me. A lesson learned with pain is better than one learned without, he'd say. That usually got me into doing what ever it was he wanted me to do. Like lying to a teacher or keeping my mouth shut about our relationship"

"I-I have no further questions your honour" Picks said, sweat beading on his forehead. House bit his lip. He had his suspicions. Hopefully the verdict would be in his favour, or more than one person would be in trouble.

"Thank you Mr Picks" Martin said. The lawyer say down, and House followed him, Turing to the left to sit by Wilson. "The jury will now make their verdict. You will be called back when a decision has been made" the room stood up, and Cuddy turned to House.

"He hardly asked you anything" she said, confused.

"Let's go outside. We'll talk about it in private" they, Wilson and Rowan exited the room and found a quiet corner of the courthouse. "I think my dad hurt his lawyer"

"What?" Cuddy squealed

"Shhh. Look, Pick's has a bandage on his hand, a bruise on his jaw. I think Dad threatened him, you know, for if he lost"

"He's not allowed. He could go to jail" Wilson said

"I know"

"What do you want to do about it?" Rowan asked his student kindly, handing him control of the situation on a silver platter.

"I think... For the moment, lets leave it. I'm starving" he hesitated, unwilling to leave anther in a potentially dangerous situation, but needing desperately to get away from the pressure of the court room.

"Then lets go get food" Rowan put his arm around House and led him away from the big doors. They went into the cafeteria and wasted an hour chatting, no one saying anything of importance or depth. Cuddy would occasionally squeeze his hand, giving him much needed reassurance. Time seemed to drag on, the conversation running dry. After almost two hours, House got a text. The jury was back. He stood up quickly, looking pale. He hadn't expected them back so soon.

"Jury's made a decision" he said. The group stood up, and they walked in total silence to the court room. Picks was seated next to John, his chair pushed as far away from his as he could manage. John sat ramrod straight, just as he had sat at so many 'family' meals, forcing his son to eat spoiled food. House sat down in his row, surrounded by his friends. He looked around. To his surprise, Blythe had come to sit quietly behind him. They smiled a tiny smile of mutual understanding, forgiveness and love before she looked away. House clocked Cuddy, still gripping his hand firmly, Wilson biting his left finger nails, and Rowan, smiling casually as though nothing would faze him. They were strong, and they were there for him. He thought about the people who weren't there like Robbie at home in Australia. He smiled a little at the thought of the rambunctious blonde boy. Judge Martin sat down in his large chair, and the rest of the court followed suit. Cuddy clutched his hand tighter as the chief juror stood and opened a small white envelope.

"We find the defendant..."

"No way they actually stop like on T.V.!" Wilson whispered into the dramatic silence.

"Guilty of the battery and assault of Gregory House and the extended child abuse and neglect of Gregory House" the room seemed to jump to their feet in one movement. A cheer spread around the court. House remained sitting, stunned, whilst Cuddy wrenched his arm up as she leapt into the air.

"Holy shit we won!" Wilson cried uncharacteristically, grabbing a stunned House's shoulders and shaking him slightly. House heard Blythe let out a sob from behind him, and decided to ignore her, a smile spreading over his face. He was free. His father would never hurt him again, could never touch him again. They all believed him. There was a sudden crash from the other side of the room, and they all swung round to see John House sitting on top of Picks and punching him in the face with alternating fists. Picks was crying, his lip bleeding and his hands trying to block his face. Within seconds, House had vaulted over the dividing half wall and had launched himself onto his father's back.

"Get off him you bastard!" He yelled. John was so surprised he stopped immediately, rolling over so he was on top again, pinning his son to the ground, spit flying from his mouth, his hair out of its sleekly gelled parting, his shirt as rumbled as House's own. They were separated quickly by the bailiffs and guards, John trying in his frenzy to hit his son. Not a single blow landed on House before the older man was dragged away from the not silent room. House extended his hand down to Picks, who was snivelling in a ball on the floor. He flinched away, but looked up to see the much kinder face of the younger House. House pulled him up.

"Thank you, for not doing anything underhanded. I'm sure he was very convincing"

"Sorry. You know. For fighting his side. I didn't like him. I believed you from the start"

"Thanks" they shook hands and House went back to his friends. "You're looking at me like I've got two heads or something" he accused, reaching for Cuddy's hand, his smile reaching his bright blue eyes. Together, with the three best friends taking the lead, they left the courtroom, leaving John and House's pain behind them.

-The End-

**Thank you so much for sticking with this story, especially those who have been with me from the very begining. There will be a sequel, and probably a prequel, and maybe some more about his time in Australia. In the sequel there will be Robbie as a teenager, developing Huddy and House escaping from his memories of John. Hope you had as much fun on this as I did!**


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